focal lengths

translated by PLS

interweave for blank space

the withering warm and passive.

as silhouettes approach the sullen base

the moment of disjointing

is like the silent windmill in the wind

the earth fades into a fish

stranded on itself

trickles of dust watered into ennui

how to imitate the suffocation

the stink and the fallen 

scales with sight

for years, clouds are a blindfold

i stretch my hands to the sky groping for

the knot bound to the back of my head