Ineza in glass
bugs on the ceiling
green numbers breathing
in slow loops
Street corner shivers
sparks under asphalt
that wheeze in the rain
like a bad truth
Somewhere a truck forgets to stop
rubber writes a crooked name
on black pavement
on my ribs
In the bardo of Ineza
every light keeps dying twice
first the bulb
then the afterimage
In the bardo of Ineza
metal prays in twisted shapes
mantras made of
airbags and sirens (oh)
Bird in the median
eyes full of traffic
wind lifts a feather
then lets go
Monk on a keychain
thumbs worn to copper
counting the spaces
between blows
I taste the charge
behind my teeth
a blue-white ladder
I can’t climb
In the bardo of Ineza
every light keeps dying twice
first the bulb
then the afterimage
In the bardo of Ineza
metal prays in twisted shapes
mantras made of
airbags and sirens (oh)
Whisper it backwards
name after name
darkness, then daylight
then nothing, then flame
Tires still spinning
though nothing moves
Ineza, hold me
between the grooves
In the bardo of Ineza
every light keeps dying twice
first the bulb
then the afterimage
In the bardo of Ineza
teach my shadow how to pass
through the glass
through the humming edge (woah)