Heft

and hue to have unheld a scale— silver dishes little mirrors on their chains— they go that way, This and hoist It’s not like looking into a pool, to let your intelligence run away with you Come back quarter size, apricot moon A changeling is a child who appeared under cover of the ordinary, in exchange The morning came I have such pretty handwriting no one said but I myself thought it to myself so I matted it like the grasses or a canvas or some uncombed hair. It became a mess which was the research of where things go. A child could figure it out if there is such a thing as “out” in the sense of being figured in the thinking was like Origami, everyone folded out of birds, into specific kinds of birds I call you hickory category dot