salt collections

do not think on these things and fall to the wayward. the ocean did not pattern its floors for our comfort in fact, the sun does not rise for our sanity. you could choose though, to think that all above and on top and below this boiled egg, coddled in darkness will rotate for you to learn to tie the knot and then untie, your own handiwork is the game. until we will pass our fortune-cookie wishes through our silk-worm bodies and scatter the lucky numbers for the next more years will go in the shelled wrappers of the notes, grocery lists, and post-it notes that keep well past their hand-written expiration. it will go on until our ambitions shelving unit collapses, we will fall and find the ocean did not pattern its floors for our comfort the sun, it does not rise for our sanity.