Brauxreblon

it's french. no,
i'm in a pinch, oh
what an agewe live in.
here it's silver for smoke
highfive for a joke,
a storm that barely bubbles up and then
cries just a few tears.
more than me
calmer than you are,
more shots than anyone at the hole ina wall

If you ever have three thousand dollars,
and six months,
look at my maps hung around, i have the world
above my head, above my hairless chest.
Never eat the crust. Pass on the salt.
enjoy what you do,


pack up and last minute, my eyes are burned dry with all of the new.
and there,
Brauxreblon between my fingers, gripping ending and excuse
i'll bury and hold stone to my cheek.