n om

days of name and

footed laundry was

it the milpa in

your mailbox many

legs detrousered

had run tomorrow

cross the sharp-edged

gravel is the canto

read inverted cause

the river took the

daily mountain down

is up the highway

toward a smoky tower

back there yr

nombre mumbles

c'est n'est pas nom

c'est l'innombrable

es la cueva inaudita

is was

not yours