A body covered in dust in a room covered in dust.
A body with an existence, dark spot on the ground.
A room admitted to itself again.
A body that had studied a room like a book.
A room on its cold knees.
A room traced back to a body and its nail-tough ancestors.
A body shedding. A room in a shed with a chair in it.
A room, for a time being, quarters for a body.
A body of bittersweet sweat, and proud hands.
A room with no inkling of what a body will do next.
A body and a little play of toes in warm socks.
A room measured by breaths.
A body as it tortoised-and-hared its way through a room.
A body an aware one, holding a letter not yet opened.
A body too fast for a room, yet where else to go?
A body of questions in a room of questions.
A body, a room. Who’s in there?
A body breaking-off a thought, a gasp.
A room a breach, a body gone to flowers.
A room joining the cracking limbs of a body.
A room called bastard and its vagrant heart.
A body coursing and room refraining. A room a room—
A room many rooms ago, a skipping record.
A body with its skin-toned scars from its vinyl youth.
A room and a body and the music they liked.
A room dedicated to repose, a body to its plumbing.
A body and a room, necking and neck.
A body as it rifled through a room for a piece of paper.
A body holding out, a room with no EXIT sign.
A body fugitive.
A room a dimmer switch for a body.
A body that shared a password with a room (they were that close).
A room a good friend to at least three people, maybe five.
A room and a copy machine flashing all the outside parts of a body.
A room and its sex, a body and its sexes.
A body whose face gives no light, shall never become a star.
A room growing into its proverbs and posters.
A body that died for truth, a room that died for beauty.
A room that could answer as easily as sneeze.
A room that had no way of being framed.
A room a mirror, a body in the wings.
A room an endangered habitat.
A body unable to utter a word.
A body of darkness, a room and its razor blade.
A body admitted to itself.
A room of inane refrains, a body of artless rhythms.
A room a sound of soon.
A body and a room, a name touching a name.
A body its first Bonnie, a room shy, high, exalted.
A room in praise of its shadows.
A body flooded in night light, a room whispering.
A body until it had no more thoughts, utterly a body.
A room very long and very deep. A body of soft striped light.
A body and its laughter, a room of soothing sounds.
A room a superposition of times in the laundry in the laundry bin.
A room a body was done-in in.
A body in the ground and a room with its windows open.
A body star westward from the pole, a room illuminated where it burned.
A body of the east that was green, black body of the north, red body of the south,
white body of the west, a room for each.
A room released from any sense of intelligibility.
A body, a brief history of light in a room.
A body if only, a room as if.