Prelude｜January 2020
Dialogue with a Fly 1
I tell the fly
drown in it
the sky says nothing
I tell the fly
fucking prick
the sky sits still
I tell the fly
a thing so normal
as not to be mentioned
who could it tell
that I had paid attention
(devotion as a currency again)
to a measure of not-heat
and not-sky
(not a vocation)
we are beyond the threshold
so language must be new
and violent, the sky says
as do you·