VIOLENT MOUTH:

Transmission, molecules & wonders. Out of night into an unmarked
morning. Electric Apollo, the music of washing lines waiting for
something to do. Birdsong machines breath in the distance.
Clouds hesitate in passing, consider falling onto us, carrying
nothing. Nothing to prove. Too skinny, too rude.
These are not tears, they’re kisses, the marks of buried treasure.

(K)