(2014)
we go walking around walking all over this town nothing ever getting us down cause we’re just a couple of clown…
just listen the trees drink silly.. I work i work that day the not
shut my eyes and squeeze my demand, the point of a spear. what will happen.
there are never really any angels in god’s company, it really just pretends them
every story, especially those promising finally to grant the square hat with tassels, is a load of shit. the god which
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
the very idea that i could be
just start over not so much like anything was particularly
love me past the edges, stances and masks, deeper than i know things.
when (finally) we meet I’m thinking spring wildflowers will bloom on high
nobody goes mad on purpose, also never is it not shared,
no means no. no response means no. (everyone knows maybe means nothing
I love how you talk Down to everyone In your poems Which, unlike fiction Are not covered
reflecting on the moment before, would be useful only were it not already perfect.
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