confession extract

so many hours

a drizzle of stars their

pepperminty aroma

tiny crystals on eyelashes

it is as though

it is as though

it is as though

as if

two eyes outside one body positioned

on the rainground looking

up. immediate

archival deletion / retrieval / dereletiontrieval.

those responsible for such
things tidy the eyes

away into

a file

so many oblivions

stars pop like balloons

keeping clean and presentable

heavy crystals on cheekbones

it is as though panic is a lake, serene with swans

it is as though every word is unambiguously a button

it is as though that place was there all my time only

as if as though

eyes in a head

flat to the groundrain.

no memory.

no forgetting.

those responsible for such things
examine the interior of the file. then make of it a police cell.

“And a third confession: I have begun to feel a strange, a quite

peculiar and now no longer repressible preference for you.” (1)

(1) Robert Walser, Jakob von Gunten, tr. Christopher Middleton