(2014)
Fieldwizards and firetops. Wobblybirds on snowflowers. Chilled milk and chowder for the little prince. Mothercake for mumbled thanks.
shall we turn down the covers, crawl inside? find there a place that’s been waiting for us, a vortex of sorts
you are guilty of failing to love and understand me, like a dog is guilty of failing to speak or use
was all stupid. you weren’t that entertaining. i find it all only sad now, that
something you need makes you its bitch, yes even as it isn’t coming, no when love stands you up & all the more sweet
people, mostly all barely beyond apes, cannot be trusted. they are incapable of caring
there are never really any angels in god’s company, it really just pretends them
shut my eyes and squeeze my demand, the point of a spear. what will happen.
if ever someone is my dearest ear who hears my truth as theirs
yeah, the contract the social one, so long ago supposedly agreed to, we were born instead into. what
just remember we are so much more than words. shadows are beautiful too but let’s not
i could not conceive of such beauty, it had to hit me like it has. nothing
got the sex drive of 15 young bulls, but the women are all scared.
why is nothing i can do now. where it went. what that echo means, if anything
first fruits hardly a handful, the garden
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