claire’s art:

brought life to the litter
grave. a hummingbird
coated in atlantica
the colour of cohen’s coat. to
smell of adjectives, splatters
of burst paint. i too, could be a poet
had i the wish to give new life. bring forth
colour. wrap the arse of the world
around my finger. i lost it on a red roof
somewhere in siena, a lady is sewing her nerve system
back into its nook. a bird hums and the sea
is not near.

they’ve moved the whole of europe to america.
i never know which name to search, for

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