possibly_maybe raze to the mythical one: all the endings sewn into you are clean as a comic book. they're rising into the stories you paint. even your mini-poems are mesmerizing in the way they speak to the dead. it makes sense marking that little mocking — the very moment of my becoming your porcupine. throttled by our own star, the casual word shimmers. i don't know if i'll come alive or not. will we fit together this way? 260425 what's it to you? who go blather from