the wavering signal

brimming tides your tires

undulation sod or eye

deployed that sand snake

talking to a window shade or

sheet floating in the

equinox its blind static

throat asemics smothered

by the door sunk inside

the hieroglyph a pool of

clouds could be the

day or clock could

be the motel vibration

is your crumpled will

your paper be ,rustling in the

ditch beside the highway

Restless in Ivan Argüelles'

“Coffin Texts”