this time of year I crave junk food

Dan Kent
Dan Kent
Dec 8, 2017 · 1 min read

gnats flap like mad
as hell inhales
heat retreats
the wind stings
icicles appear
on the puppeteer’s
puppet strings
the last bird
without sound
flys slow
above the steeple
the ground
goes flat
and hard
grow round
and fat
while earth
still turns
with breath
so cold
it burns

I'm so abstract automatic doors at grocery stores don't open for me.

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