Everywhere, snarled harps of sheets unfurl to lick toenail, lip, eyelash. White dragons of thin cotton thwack-snapping in the hands of orderlies long acclimated
regularity and symmetry…are amongst the primordial needs of the human soul –Baudelaire, Journaux Intimes Standing elsewhere, I look at myself
Tell no one where you’ve buried the map of your feet. Maintain your invisible stealth. On streets where people move in pairs, keep your