now it is time

to set fire to the motor soldiers. 

“at rest we go by number 906 at rest.” 

someone's been living here in this 

start-up                         “someone is living here, 

Babette.” she stands in ashes 

glistening with sweat.

“smooth as the flame she was born of”  

was always she : Babette. she was thirty 

years ago at rest.



now it is time

for the absolute absence of any event. 

there are nests of clumsy language there are

“hazards to Babette.” the voices dragging 

all by heart. suppose the ashes look the sand.

“I propose the ashes look the sand” she said :

as though she were Babette. I look on human 

faces and see nine. the absolute of any event :

see absence dragging heart 

between the sand. “someone’s been living

in this number 906 start-up : my neighbor : 

my private enemy” someone is living 

here : Babette.











poor ghost – its tools – its host 

of seven selves that rattle seamless 

into dinner now. now grant the way.  

it is remote – blue distance – remote

is blue or so 

her credits run.

and so it is. and so it is done.



Beliza – Beliza

con atté sic – Beliza


Beliza – Beliza 

a sigh and ahead – it is dusk



that continent dull – that endless 

standing must be standing on 

with eies. that form that seek 

her troat. 

and of all these – of the soft and the free 

– would make no pattern 

known again.


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