A mannequin mouth that falling rings the day bell caught in curving still in a place that didn’t matter much to softer thinkers who remember one who spills and smiles. When you went swimming, you used to say that the shoelaces of language were untied. And I believed you until I realized that language is barefoot and thoughtful. Old mix tapes that I searched for inspiration and proof until the curious erosion like rain drank up the contents. Broadcast disincluded the changing symbols, for now I practice a dot-to-dot philosophy in the aquarium. What imitated a feeling? Like a duet across the room or the wall of the body I type around or the cave covered in animals demonstrating the division of belief. The cuckoo declares independence from the clock. Why go to work again? Why write a poem again? The daytime theaters are overflown with forgetfulness as the tempest develops dreams in a bath of beer. I tinkered and boiled by the river but you did not come back the while and pillows projecting with wistfulness the painting silhouettes of god on the brown walls.