Gaarbo Sensed in a Lead Vessel

the printed work is a statement, we’re leaving for the country.

the printed work is staring at you, we’re leaving you for the country.

the printed work staring at the yellow wall, left in a country of stations.


princess of the static moment.

her entombment, reminiscent of the freezing cloak, skirt afire, armor placard.


the wolf and the coyote might work together to confuse you.

the world and the coin might devour each other and split the profit.

the wolf might use the coin to alter his features, the coyote suspects.

a world of nothing but existence is a lousy nightclub concept.

the internet has changed the wolf forever.


the incessant howling of the moon at something in costume.


the printed work is a fated task, fated never to be printed.

work is its own declining orbit, being made as an offering to a toolbox.

the agonized mothers looking up at their children arriving with arms and allergies.


the word is printed upon the life.

the brilliancy of the city demands a replacement world.

the wolf is a doorway into a showroom of bargain wolves.