baby you gotta sing next to me

to listen to the pears fall

.

close your eyes in a flood

the guy next to you is red as suckle

we make the metal manics whistle grace

yesterday I thought we disappeared

this effect is called in steel

.

the harmonica prayed

watched him fill a suit with grey lemon

in the sun he follows me

a river bed in smoked pollen

tomorrow is a feather between floods

wet from thin rims of silver

.

the guy next to you makes a house and sips curious

sky in hollow flowers

placed in a single coin purse in the tree

the leaves become her recent flush

greener daffodils than church

the wave is steel

.

a collage your arms admit water

our thoughts take the air out of roots

delicate pink barrels to the end of since

between when it came from the flood

.

disappear in foreign

in tomorrow

the wet from thin rims of silver