Hominid The Revenue Device


There are no shadows, my land faces deep close abundance,
the commercial vessels have gone out to ocean; their sounds
initialed pre-dawn as I lay on a bone of myself so I decided
to get up and go toward the sound of the hollow clunk of bins,
loaded smoke and the diesel stagger of the cold short engines
of the tractors shifting the boats. The netters’ seawet empty
trailers, the weed hung around the rear guide poles and the
parked sun waiting behind the peninsular

were all exact tremendous things. I wanted to sharpen this
‘bone’ whittle it down to a ‘chip’, locate the reason for
the chunk I’d lay uncomfortably on but the new feeling of
light undressed that, and I wanted only to look
at the landscape and builded structures of dwelling and
commerce change with the altering f.stop.





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