The Law of Suspects
failure is not silent. with it the trees creek. leaves rattle
hear? da dee dum dum dum da dee dum dum
o-o-o Oligar-r-r-r-rchy of crow loon dove feathered hats.
shhhhhhhh. the sound of a whisper is the sound of something
which begs to be said. imagine every cut coming back to you
paper cut. guillotine. olives. almonds. vermouth
trees in the mountains there writhe through each breeze
an empire begins this way rowed orchards with heavy fruit
plenty-stained peaches. Marie Marie … enforcement [is] justice
no vermouth is not cut but cuts this is true. almonds resist
the blade roll away yes but somewhere within them is a perfect
sliver. one century easily forgets another but always within a pitched
vibration of singing. wind chimes. bus engines revving away. confess: all
we create fails too. the chimed sound of retreat spins within our ears.
