(2014)
Fieldwizards and firetops. Wobblybirds on snowflowers. Chilled milk and chowder for the little prince. Mothercake for mumbled thanks.
you are guilty of failing to love and understand me, like a dog is guilty of failing to speak or use
nobody goes mad on purpose, also never is it not shared,
love does not beat on doors, beg at tables. it is always
finally, without knowing it was coming, he got to die. it was great. like a birthday party clown, he was equally the center
when (finally) we meet I’m thinking spring wildflowers will bloom on high
I will meet you in the open air, & pet your pony’s nose. You will be
of course it is not about you. you have to know this, like baby birds know worms come with mother’s return,
a few hundred million dying days later he emerges into crazy
people, mostly all barely beyond apes, cannot be trusted. they are incapable of caring
they really do know how to shove something up your ass like
let’s put all the stupid things in a pile and call them “love” or “worry” or
shall we turn down the covers, crawl inside? find there a place that’s been waiting for us, a vortex of sorts
yeah, the contract the social one, so long ago supposedly agreed to, we were born instead into. what
no means no. no response means no. (everyone knows maybe means nothing
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