Take in America through every orifice and pore.
The sounds we make as we pass echo off to become meaningless, their conjoined cacophony ringing with a voice deep and dark as the ancients.
My thoughts lose meaning as they reach the page.
We are all made of stone, yet somehow thawing. I zoom in and out through a myriad of conversations. Lacking lies. Scattering prose. Tiny little lines.
What separates bone from other tissues really? Some silent agreement inherent in our very cells. We walk in patterns, avoiding the kiosks, understanding what is unspoken. What is alien is unacceptable. The man moves against the crowd. An incautious, unfortunate ankle dies.
Everything flows like syrup. Move it molasses.
Passive, I swallow my beverage.
Pronouns are very important here.
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