CHAPTER OF THE UN-NOUN

GERTRUDE : I am writing this without a name. first’n it is gone from

A long walk away

The small red bricked name

Frozen bellows

The smiths bantered out of

The ringing hammer on copper

The meltered lead

In the space above me in the space of bright thingness swarmed in flows. It is called cadance-ing- but it was a billion of the skirted and to move to enter their way one moved them away no matter the slow of the gesture watch, just watch.

I could make them spin on my softest breath.