Reade Mccardell Archived
Before we move on to the next
We unfold our bags
Adjust apertures
These things we'll have archived
Archived
Archived
Archived
A shred of cloth darkening with wet
The tearing of a perforated edge
A spit valve emptying in Nebraska at the end
A bridge collapses, a captive coon douses its food
Two blueberries, two blueberries in the final mouth
Here is a bag of lists and a cherub pin
Look, someone stapled their fortune to a tree
Look, someone stapled their fortune to a tree
Look, someone stapled their fortune to a tree
These things, these things we'll have archived
Archived
Archived
When the archives fill with water
I've asked myself the same thing
