whatever is over here takes fright when it wants to sit down
whatever is over there piles up to the great edge of the soul that is feathered on both sides
is this over here
is that over there?
the front goes out through the front the back goes out through the back and the middle remains standing but before the middle introduces itself the water empties and the bottle fills up the hand shuts its trap for whatever is spoken turns into blood and uses the familiar form the archi-thighs hang out of the shirts and touch the armies the hair of the fruitful years stands on end but the water remains empty.