Tire fires are of two types.
They can be fast-burning conflagrations. Or they can be slow-burning shit storms.
Because I could not stop for death…
Sincere apologies to the ghost of Dr Seuss…
I’m almost there in sunny Californy Where the fields are gold with corn, My journey’s ending and I’m cheery, Somehow I ain’t sorry I was born.
A golden apple’s gloss must gild this sourness,a distant star’sstrayed rayhas burnt this hole,this blind spot — no, notanother…