in my dream farren is the hierophant and the ballast: in the sunlight the electric warmth of the guitar and a disaster in cotton: amplification from a cigarette tin: tiny ancient braided woman saying plastico, handing me a white towel: the fog condenses into something more or less solid, clings to the eucalyptus, strikes the roof: and i am afraid these are secret messages: tell me what you know about: topless and shivering and the cat lapping mayonnaise from a clear bowl and the old pressure at the back top of the throat: i am not going to cry this time and similar lies: the moon does not belong to me: the emerald green sludge trickling down the left side of my brain, does:
