robert moses joyce
AND KNEELING AT THE EDGE OF THE TRANSPARENT SEA I SHALL SHAPE FOR MYSELF A NEW HEART FROM SALT AND MUD
at the bottom of the ocean is a layer of water that has never moved
I am molten matter returned from the core of earth to tell you interior things
Sometimes I dream a sentence and write it down. It’s usually nonsense, but sometimes it seems a key to another world
FRANCE. Paris. 2001.
After all, the only rule of travel is, Don’t come back the way you went. Come a new way
I can hear little clicks inside my dream.
Night drips its silver tap
down the back.
At 4 A.M. I wake