House of Leaving

there

are

some

things

that

just

don't

make

it

into

the

lateral

flow

of

occasions

even / especially

as

"I"

pseudo

auto

biographical

fiction

in-the-making

spatially

unaware

move

in

another

direction

that

feels

very

familiar

as-if

lost

in

premonition

or

sexy

dream

language

visualized

as

landscape

coming

sheets

of

rain

(but

this

is / nt

one

of

them

or is it?)

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Metadata: text, flow, "I", spatially