as if it could retain us
we retain it
we make mention of detritus
we accumulate its bits
on top of everything: pianos
falling down, ruined
the place where her lips were
there were lip prints
a synthetic rope made into knots
unweaving itself -- unthreaded
six thousand petroleum snakes
just six thousand of millions
there are too many to count
I count myself among the ruined
I, ruiner --
to say it makes the shapes tremble
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