In the rooms of the red / whole what

Walking witnessing snow and sun in dance
And evergreen trees mushrooms in spreads
The nerves of toes are spreads themselves
Rituals of the step, of steppes, and nods open
Open into a single entity amidst a network
And my nod is a single nod in a hollow network
And all feet swimming in separate, cold pools
And pools collections of bacteria and gawk
And the gawk is fairly frozen when it’s open
Hoodies amidst the trap music, cans of Olympia
Hugs and smiles, smiles and hugs, warmth a hug
Hug a warmth a smile an auto text auto didactic
And realizations of conducted earthquakes
Calming us like tiny, circumscribed inscriptions

Good morning la/ae/ae

A boy with a torn face walks down the street carrying newspapers bearing the headlines about Syria’s people being killed by Gaddafi, and it’s totally the whole

I’m never excited about the landscape of treason, but I’m always excited about the landscape of treason