psalm 101 when i close my eyes i hear two birds and three underground things. nothing perfect when you look at us do not look toward our meat or hands : we swell and jut : we unravel just before snow. i go nicked and wild, i look toward ceilings and dream of falling. nothing clings to me, nothing sings. to me. psalm 3 the ants have increased. thick black wobbly lines, stove to cabinet to floor when i sleep i dream the ten thousand dreams, circle of cheekbone and teeth : i am not afraid of the finer bones of the human head, nor the dentist’s troubadour drill faces broken tiles psalm 99 you are a foggy pillar, a smokestack of grass, a turning away of red and need and if we break and look up we see the cloudy...