I drag a drawer open
inside I see There wrapped
I know it's There because
of a sharp far smell
I take out the package of There
its wrapping-paper sprouts
thick black hairs
the package is bound
with a red slippery ligament
for later I put
the package aside
onto a table cowering
on an horizon
I push my head into the drawer
I let my tongue slide along
all the drawer's corners
I collect splinters of language
I pull my fattened head out
my mouth cradles
a hedgehog of story
this bristling tonguehog is so sore
now with my splintered tongue out
I sit at the frail table on the horizon
I unwrap the package of There
I undo its red slippery string
I fold back its black-haired paper
a loud pressure of air
flattens fast onto my face
the hedgehog in my mouth
balances syllables on There's edge
syllables grow louder & faster
through my face
it will not be long before
I & my tongue learn
how the drawer's old corners
were put together
and when I find the last dust of ideas
in the last corner of a last drawer
I will tension The Clock
When will bust and Now will bend
my sentence will curl up
under leaves of days
my tongue will peacefully bleed
a new true cool story
I pull the slippery red ligament
across my scalp
tighten it over my head's wrapping
I leap from the horizon
into the drawer you
must push shut