Thibault Raoult
It’s
Dry inside these hills
Where I transcribe
Crickets different
But I don’t want to find myself
In a watershed
Pitter patter
A welcome term
For drama
(One throat (I moist insist) ≠ one buck)
It’s dry inside these hills
But I don’t want my face
Grooved in any empirical
Sense / I’d like to call Vega
In for questioning whatever
Whatever that tar pit has to say
To you it can sing to me
Sing me
A lullaby historical forces
Historical forces don’t ask why
Boundaries are the best
southern light.
just like you.
to invent a silence.
to drink coffee.
like an oak.