Restart Story

Please stop following me.\n[[1|sleep]]\n[[2|cities]]
Storytellers have lost their throne.
Young ones in bed lying about brushed teeth\n\n[[1|Grandchildren]]\n[[2|Storyteller]]
Old Finnish men wear hats.\n[[1|Sombre]]\n[[2|Hat]]
Think of a reindeer antler cut and broken\n[[1|Crunch]]\n[[2|Fright]]
Children’s books lying broken on dusty floors\n\n[[1|axe]]\n[[2|father]]
Streets speak sleek sleet sleep.
What is a hat?\n[[1|Reindeer]]\n[[2|Crowd]]
You always loved the sound of snow crunching\n[[1|moonlight]]\n[[2|empty]]
Do you notice the shadows on the way to the bathroom?\n\n[[1|Spring]]\n[[2|Summer]]
Grandchildren now fear their grandparents.\n
I don’t know what to do about naked bodies.
We know where to fetch firewood when necessary.
I can't find father.
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Children crying for juice and other things\n[[1|barns]]\n[[2|firewood]]
Strange Hats
Empty childhood homes emptied by urbanization.
Turning the cheek too Christian I feel.
Helsinki thinking spiteful things\n[[1|Young]]\n[[2|Notice]]
I can’t find father’s axe.
Shoulders against cement, ushered there by strong grips
Always despair and always an earful,\n[[1|books]]\n[[2|crying]]
Cities remain strange in that anemic before-dawn, even after years.
We never knew when to stop turning the page
Sombre faces,\n[[1|Helsinki]]\n[[2|Despair]]
I guess I’ll never see another country summer
But I think the sound tonight rather frightens\n[[1|pages]]\n[[2|christian]]
These caps without faces dotting the crowd\n[[1|always]]\n[[2|please]]
We leave the barns to rot, the pain peeling.\n
Shadows always frighten\n[[1|naked]]\n[[2|cement]]
The dark trees against moonlight, or perhaps moonlight against dark trees
I miss the sounds of spring