Bird day. Day of Hitchcockian/avian reckoning. Talons and talons and the balloons squawk as they burst! Ready for the crow of tomorrow, the splendid black, the day enshrouded? Bored day. Boors to bore along the quay; and if they tip, if they tip! Sleep the day. Bleep the motherf******* day. Blah day, gray as a motherfucker… misty, diaphanous, almost really, really pretty like a woman who lives in her cream-colored slip. Alight this wreath of twigs, burn day. My still-soft flesh, my cream-colored slip, my wreath of twigs aflame, my bare day. Berth day, where the sea sways like a moron.