(2014)
I will meet you in the open air, & pet your pony’s nose. You will be
STEP BACK! There’s an infection you’ll get if you come any closer. It will open your eyes through the crust
god is unwelcome in suburbia, the cells are too comfortable there, & love rests best under stars.
liking to say things, all kinds of things, mostly about the way things seem
unspeakable dearth of nutrient the cause of the complaint, lack of the sweet titmilk of human connection,
first fruits hardly a handful, the garden
yes, darling you should come & take care of me, someone has to, & you
we go walking around walking all over this town nothing ever getting us down cause we’re just a couple of clown…
does a king come ready– made, or doesn’t he emerge from a prince once a frog, and aren’t you
when (finally) we meet I’m thinking spring wildflowers will bloom on high
Fieldwizards and firetops. Wobblybirds on snowflowers. Chilled milk and chowder for the little prince. Mothercake for mumbled thanks.
oh, and how it gets you these bastard assumptions, one or two commonalities
dopplergangers in case you both explode, who knows it could happen, true love too qui… like a limerick, obvious stupid si… like things aren’t. also, angular
stupid met crazy decided to have a baby or two... what else you gonna do?
I understand the tattoo now “VERITAS” on your wrist, only there because it is entirely absent everywhere else.
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