Books Getting The Done Job
Ear to the ground I sift through
Piles of falling letters
Copying keys, roll down my sleeves
A part of the hanging garden of the
City
Downtown the sounds of single people
Doing nothing
Nose to the wall
I follow paths of tiny fissures
Falling trapeze, the Japanese
Are watching a garden growing on
An island
Surround the mound and run your
Fingers through the filings
