(2013)
yeah, the contract the social one, so long ago supposedly agreed to, we were born instead into. what
Fieldwizards and firetops. Wobblybirds on snowflowers. Chilled milk and chowder for the little prince. Mothercake for mumbled thanks.
love does not beat on doors, beg at tables. it is always
liking to say things, all kinds of things, mostly about the way things seem
STEP BACK! There’s an infection you’ll get if you come any closer. It will open your eyes through the crust
something you need makes you its bitch, yes even as it isn’t coming, no when love stands you up & all the more sweet
oh, and how it gets you these bastard assumptions, one or two commonalities
now, I’m no Bukowski but my friends who don’t like poet… except his stuff, tell me they like mine, and I can drink like a drinking machine
love me past the edges, stances and masks, deeper than i know things.
a breeze. already know what’s what. shut up. kiss her. shut up...
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
so, i’m in this spiritual war. maybe you aren’t, but i am. many great losses
root it out the tiny bit left that says someone’s in charge not you. don’t let it live
shall we turn down the covers, crawl inside? find there a place that’s been waiting for us, a vortex of sorts
the center holds itself still that rockets believably may be seen exploding in all directions from somewhere vaguely