what’s all this learning worth if not for some day such as this? let’s talk about redistribution. let’s talk about reparations. reconstruction. let’s get even if not even then at least leveled, brought to flatness, nothing in the way.

negative nightingales   left roses to lose bloom

                                    looked for nectar elsewhere

                        - or died

                        - doesn’t matter

Today is tiring. Ghosts chase and in this race, the finish is back at the start. Never is the heart left even as it leaps, skips, stays silent through pursuits. Steam rises from former mistakes thawed swift past water stage. Steam ejects from pipes as pistons engage – on vapors, phantoms take comfort.

Stepping stone. Yesterday, today, tomorrow. This is accepted. Maybe one day, the love will be for feet. Until then these hands have work to do, these eyes also and what joins the four. The words, thoughts, images, sensation.  Work. And more work. Let this be relief.

and the hatchet buried in scene 1 will return in act 3 as settlerspeak. in a colonial colloquial. a tongue left in a locked room could just as easily lead to the reveal as to be the weapon itself.