rewriting landscape.


Kyle Schlesinger

from Bigfoot



Scene II. October 2, 1958


A deviser of territories when there are none.
No language. No territory. No work to do.

No yellow yellow ribbons. Then a storm. Nothing to tie down. Love letters to follow:

Dear Neptune,
I think the universe. Delicious rye flour. Can’t season the sun with salt.

Dear Gerund,
I think the universe. No gulf. The boots are dry. I think salt air.

Dear Jerry,
I am certain it is our own. How could it be another?

Dear Invincible,
I am thinking about territories, sediment, the alphabet. I think we are footprints. What time? Is it invincible? Jer’ sz. it’s time to git out of the biz’. Head shots enclosed. My wife heard a whistling wail shatter the silence of the wilderness night. Don’t FAX, write! Please dispose of this telegraph. Don’t flinch when I mention the invisible. It is best for us both

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