I Throw

quest your tree erroneously
in this life there’s nothing to it
you’ll cry less when you die
spat of spite all the accounts
have been logged
footprints and dust on
the shoulder cliffs
lost cries at the door without meaning
flip the record over now damnit
my grandfather’s newspaper
at the breakfast table
I blow snot into nakins from my nose
I throw rocks through glass buildings
from my right hand