01: Red Ribbon

Air through that screen, on me again: blue air, 

and white, dusk, peach horizon, nighttime, still

screen and open window

- I could never live here,

everything grows too fast - 

the way letters live in my holes; there is too much spread out

flat for miles,

open windows, and red ribbon dance

words upon my face - it is late for gloom and sleep, yellow phosphoric light.

My hand, my pen

against what it can dig into for what it can dig out of holes: my mind

 in a rush, red ribbon on glass - the screen.

I had no expectations, nothing is planned

for me to speak of;

I do not look for holes, but I am party to sacrifice.

The ink was prepared by God,

and has its way