look up what grackles are. new mexico smells of roasting chilies & someone across the hall is
sobbing. spires for ribcage & wake up in the muscle of cemeteries & southern church-brick.
remember atlas? remember the way we touched the soil to our faces? that’s not a dog. it’s a dove.
crayons on the couch. split the coast, fire the rifle in field, let me know when the tasting is over.
there are geese in the field—

how many apartments can you burn in an hour?