Notes On Air

The interview
Where you spoke
To the bleach
In the stone
You should have
Brought some tea
Outside
Where the light
Coats us
In marzipan
In pools
Of breast milk
I had to bury
My daughter today
And I can't
Think about
It too much
You see a buck
From the sky
Trample
A wandering doe
You see a buck
From the sky
Trample
A wandering doe

I am down
To the beach
Smoke condensed
From telling stories
Strolling through
The neighborhood
Clanking steel
And discolored
Because you made
A truce of rubber
Because you made
A truce of rubber
Because you made
A truce of rubber
Because you made
A truce of rubber
You see a buck
From the sky
Trample
A wandering doe
You see a buck
From the sky
Trample
A wandering doe

Abiding in the unborn
Is symmetry
And that one is always
The refuge
Abiding in the unborn
Is symmetry
And that one is always
The refuge
You see a buck
From the sky
Trample
A wandering doe