91 9 8
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Name me any color you like:Chartreuse Vermillion CattleyaLay me in a bed of rare papyrusamong prismatic …
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Hatin' on lists with liberal use of the F-bomb.
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“Now God,” Mr. Smashface calls me out by name.
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fetal position can make a man seem small. harmless. like the child your womb won't carry...
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The garden path / and her path are intertwined
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day dreams, at last!
Timetables colliding, time tables
alarm clocks
Sunday stew
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The word went out in the humid New Orleans / night, wafting from bar to bar
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Everything is bound to change like / a damsel to the tracks.
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There were trees where I lived
and clean pavement
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I got on the Greyhound Bus at 11 a.m. and sat by myself staring out the window. I could see the reflection of my own dark beard in the window, a 27 year-old man with a huge poem bursting my heart, gasping to get out into the bright lit-up world out there,
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It was in India where we learned to navigate pity.
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there was no mess she couldn’t manage, / no chaos she couldn’t tame.
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The custard of eternity is scooped into
the quantum cone of knowledge and drips
out the bottom one lifetime at a time.
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