instant raze i plucked a tendril of dust the length of a child's finger from the neutral eye of a wall outlet with a pair of tweezers. crouched as low as i was able to photograph the face of one of my truest friends while he ate the seed of a deciduous tree. swallowed two white pills i trust to fortify my bones and help me heal. listened to birdsong and the harsh cries of overdriven single-cylinder and parallel-twin engines insulted by the men who made them moan. swore at the same sapphire scoundrels that stole from me yesterday. watched two hawks ride currents of warm air like swimmers straddling the ocean's waves. held a paper-thin prayer between my pursed lips and sealed it with a soft kiss. and now it's on its way to you. catch it if you can. 230407 what's it to you? who go blather from