if:then::iminami

Air barriers

hit soft like a featherload of bricks

formed of clay, fire, soot and bone.

The gängeldorf scours the wreckage for plants and brains and things.

What if those heavy things cracked their little brittle bones to the marrow?

Turns out, hope takes diet pills.

The red phone is ringing,

you sleuth you.

The deep is anywhere but here.

In the next place, cement will float like trees.