Halt,

Small bone in transit. Still your odds in an orderly pile, some view. One bead aids advance. I didn’t ask for circulation. Continue on, I measure no less, until all liquid loses shape. That shiner of a reminiscence. Me, wounded, approaching at the next station.

Curiousier

Hither,

No score for keeps. First light came; satisfied with reason. If Kansas packs you tight, take off from that aviary: Any mistake hands on a dissimilar connotation. Mad River crossed us, in the insane froth of round trips. I’m ready to read. Send like after like, as harsh as zero.

Creature,

Yours