Stuff; aggressive, messy confessions. Goggles ward off ferrets with weapons. Stop handing me stop signs and learn how to be profound. In moments of solitude I bounce from a tree, branches steal homeless people up off the street. I am a stop sign. I'm inside a stop sign. Look aligned, take your time. Throw a frisbee and watch it morph into a lime. Growing glass floats up from my flask. A progressive past, it takes off its mask. The bread man begins a profession. His favorite lesson - the moon is a crescent. I'm not a mime, not incandescent. This is my task, this is transgression.
