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the blue rule of sky falls upon realization that the purpose of time is to prevent everything from happening at once, there is a loneliness that opens up between two people sitting in a bar on your birthday because nothing is left but desire for that perfect economy of action gorge after gorge, turning, turning, caverns of sunset, falling, falling away just a single vast of golden air a cleft and gigantically pocked ocean folded into the dens of two hands cusped together and we circle, circle, circle again with a gold slipper sun's paws shining, clustered on the water here where the sagebrush begins and the flat miles of sky end for me to come on this trek to videotape a desire and obtain cheap prompt correct facts about an object to which nothing in your world of gestural exhibition corresponds driving is penance for me but for you penance is something broken off and thrown back like a sweetness that pierces your thoughts penance for me is self destruction to flatten the memory of...
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 I am a simple girl:

i am at mercy of things imposed to me,

i wish to be an evenly lit candlestick,

i yearn for votives in the moonlight,

i live in boxes above and below,

i know earthly life is but a moment,

i am banal of the inevitable,

i spit in broken translations of Korean,

i despise my mother for her capabilities,

i dwell in queue of prior existence,

i sit in fear of prior existence.

It is June and I am tired of being afraid,

I am tired of being afraid of the inherent pain to start again

    for I also know the inherent joy to start again

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