Dance it out, they say. That's an instruction I'll follow with my hands and one letter at a time. The sound of silent house and a canine's mastication trill the Sunday evening sparrow spars. I am distracted. Email. I buy a replacement HEPA filter. There is a marrow in my tomorrow that feels constricted by surrounding bone. I am bludgeons me and those nearby. International orneriness is for the past, all those birds. Watch carefully? Hold on loosely? Lyrical shipments, free to the inner ear, unbalanced or not. I dance, but not in front of people. It's sort of in front of people. I repeat, they say to dance it out. The languages that could have been learned haunt me. As with the skills and other knowledge. So be it. Memoirization can handle that which did not happen just as well as that which did. And so here, we are. Take a comma and put it in your blender, to stop any sentence and never again pause.