Author: [[Abe Brownell]] --- Is this thing on? This—the hour of the evening flake Can I stand to see it become someone else? Never to engage in an armistice with I know you am I empty of Fire from within or without I mostly just feel stuck to To something too hot to touch Do I remember? I fell all the way through once Found myself on this side and I've Stayed there ever since Since I woke up every day Some days there's regret and I am mummified in vines It's a modest living At dawn or dusk