Abduct bones (they don’t like being alone). Calm delirium (with cool towels or strong words). Eavesdrop on a frigate (it hums). Go hoarse (the lack of voice, you’ll be surprised). Ingest pain (don’t try to spit it out. It doesn’t work that way). Know life-longitude (as soon as life says but not any earlier). Magnify nails (how do things stay up? That’s important). Open pearls (without breaking them). Quiet the rain (by absorbing it).  Soothe turns (they get dizzy and need a hug). Unveil a veil (gently. There is a small child inside). Watch. Always watch (from a sunny hillside).

The clink 

The angles in the bastion let you clink coins into the dark eye [already fleeing]. Gold greed, they call it. It has more than an inkling too, jostling us as we kneel before its labor. A morass of nothing, an oracle of no power, it quivers and runs to a shivering sleep [or, maybe it is I]. Tomorrow we’ll go underground. We’ll vie. We’ll waste away. X marks the spot! We yawn, but it’s the omega marks black the currency.