out in the excruciating hair-high weed, under the litter of the nearby sea, ice symphonies glide over the hill of green arrows.
time skips back forty years to witness unglamorous white short sleeves over hairy large arms and chugging buggies.
war towers at Tofino.
out among the reverberation of loss, bit from every angle by thorns and moss, geist symphonies fall on plugged ear to f*cking rhythms.
too much dwelling in material.
it's all old trails.
can you feel their pull to the old wood fort, and blanket trading?
war towers at Tofino.
after the fixing of our geographies, new configurations, new enemies.
nothing to see here but the interning, the "covering up the Others”.
time don't overwrite stupid fears resurfacing in two tower tears and custom police.
masked legacy of war towers at Tofino.