give up aghast
i 'splay my colored pencils into the sunand what of license, Mr. Williams?
what of stoplight burglaries
poverty in a painting smock
ad infinitum'd
like soldiered & triangulated mirrors
to show how everyone changes
what of the
crawlspaces et cetera'd
throughout the city center
a man buys a saw from which he
might makes thunder
against the grain locks
a language of one's own
unique and metallic
at the end of the party
the way saunter swollen daughters
and confess bedspreads out their mouths
publicadas por Ryan @ 10:33 a. m.
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