"Somehow fixed, yet also drifting,
I am dark and hollow here.
I take one hand and stroke the cheek
Of my latest love affair.
She is also dim and hollow,
She has chosen to take form
In flux, ejected, irrecoverable,
Flesh and bone, flesh and bone.
'No one can find us here,'
A dreadful comfort of a thought
And that which made us burn so brightly
Now will gift us all that's not"
- automatic poetry, 11/17/2020


















