zero zero zero

Woodpecker Sentinels

Fishwife come, fishwife served.
The Moon’s components spatial,
Sunward-facing, a constraint—
A stationmaster of flux.

Asteroids lightweight & streak—
Chockful of RNA stuff &
Vitamin B3 residues—
Dash the black void.

Fishmonger plumbed, fishmonger unnerved.
Woodpecker sentinels
Pound out a binary syncopation—
One, zero, one, one, zero,

One, zero, zero, zero,

What I’m Reading:

“If grief is love with nowhere to go, this is 
my mouth turning into snow. 
This is somewhere.”

— Allison Benis White / “Description of Symptoms”

About istsfor manity

i'm a truncated word-person looking for an assemblage of extracted teeth in a tent full of mosquitoes (and currently writing a novel without writing a novel word) and pulling nothing but the difficult out of the top hat while the bunny munches grass in the hallway. you might say: i’m thee asynchronous voice over in search of a film....
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