the alarming thing
does not wear off         wears off
where words come from         condensation
the thing you’re         housed by
that you         clothe and feed
the trudge         the small bed
the dreaming thing         the bower bird
crowd of neon         shiny things
oh the things I         make for you
for you        for you        for you
the talking pond         take it back
to the laboratory         see what it is
oil sands         an abrupt cold spell
populations         slow cave
even dying one         must not be able
to believe it         one must think
this must be         what dying feels like