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applied for grant of clemency or clementine oh my darling do you not know the test you are about to perform? that's about to be performed on you? all of you? your breath has become the maelstrom and the maelstrom has become your thoughts which become you and which don't become you at all not … Continue reading "{-solutions-}"

Saturday, A.M.

Cold woke and dream-rocked; Knees creaking, shivering — Finish the fruit while there’s yet time (Eyes still mostly water, with some stone) Love’s on a friendship never borne: Thoughts slip and words linger — Sleeping past Orion’s welcome. When did these become my hands? Tiny bell that signals message. You are there and I am … Continue reading "Saturday, A.M."

My Love Is Water

My love is water, every dream Is sweaters worn on autumn hills, The capable is palpable, And they say “love don’t pay the bills” But mine does. My love is dreaming, every day We run along the riverside, I asked the wondering sky for help, But she said “I have too much pride” Like I … Continue reading "My Love Is Water"

what wasn’t

the news about you like a sun setting behind hills, those days when you and she were keeping alive what was young (when so much so many aren’t even keeping alive) you kissed her long before i ever did and you occupy a place indecent for me to intrude upon for nothing is owned except … Continue reading "what wasn’t"

the serpentine illusion

inside a taste of everything the serpentine illusion; as alabaster cities once you drink as though you don't think you will fall a paramedic shortage means you have to wait for ice to hit your veins, but there's no kind of flow along the passageways of melting land, the hashtag ampersand, the infrastructure longs for … Continue reading "the serpentine illusion"

pantopia

pantopian facsimile, conniption panegyric — a salivating entropy that irritates the psychic — obsessions on the manifold, societal oblation — a ringing silence cross the stage, mistook for an ovation

grey drive dream

because of hands on steering wheel to roam it doesn’t matter how to feel no home no lights just motorcar and a single luxury - just hollow space to wallow and more dark & truth than sweet to swallow empty pillbox unused pillow and fresh tears enough to grow a downstream willow