verse poem
I woke up in the dark,A man out of time and still out of energy,Out of a dream about that…
Eschewing what the worldwould have kept for you as form,you float as eyes in…
freedom is the price of work — gone, struck down
“Are you looking at my breasts?”
Spindle, shuttle, weft.
Warp, woof, shaft.
We were in the break room staring at our paper coffee cups in silence. Curtis was fidgeting. I could tell he was…