Notes On Air

The interview Where you spoke To the bleach In the stone You should have Brought some tea Outside Where the light Coats us In marzipan In pools Of breast milk I had to bury My daughter today And I can't Think about It too much You see a buck From the sky Trample A wandering doe You see a buck From the sky Trample A wandering doe I am down To the beach Smoke condensed From telling stories Strolling through The neighborhood Clanking steel And discolored Because you made A truce of rubber Because you made A truce of rubber Because you made A truce of rubber Because you made A truce of rubber You see a buck From the sky Trample A wandering doe You see a buck From the sky Trample A wandering doe Abiding in the unborn Is symmetry And that one is always The refuge Abiding in the unborn Is symmetry And that one is always The refuge You see a buck From the sky Trample A wandering doe