perhaps it may be that nail in the wall getting stuck or we don’t know what we don’t know might gradually deepen
when we look from this side it’s just a nail sticking into the wall, but when we see behind the wall in the middle of the dark inside time, several centuries pass and I can’t touch the nail in empty space, quietly floating
when wind sinks into the wall, is the nail rocking the dimness of empty space like the naked bough hiding the tree’s inner life?
I understand the nail at night gradually deepens from this stuffed pocket I deliver nails at any motel I know of and in that high motel room I take off my wet body and my body twists until, gently, crawling out my mouth one red spider
I know why the nail at night secretly twists and bends
nobody really owns the wild beast they raise until they learn to cry