But also, yes, we are planning to come back. Looks like August, right now. We just need to catch up on some other pressing matters so we can properly focus our attention on the QB.
Like your collar is always turned up.Like the wind twisting in your ears, conchand cilia. Like the spine of the roofpeering behind other roof-spines, greenwith moss. Like waking up as someoneelse. Like when you’re…
This poem includes complex formatting, shown in the image above…
I am wonder-led by wolves.This night-world is our lyric, our pack-song.We comb these paths for beauty, but I cannot chart the countless devouring of tooth and nail
Late April. Shards of light explodeagainst a rolled fist. The weather,angry as always, never settled
James Brown’s waxed face graces the New York PostCarnival starts in Harlem two months early
I dreamt Dad kicked down the door to give me a hug. I turned off my computer and let him do it.
That sad feeling after Thanksgiving like you can’t find words.
couldn’t be microcosm if broken but we broke toois the frame of the door’s hive ishow no way can you stay no how longeryou have to leave fragments wax leaves youmay regret the door or walk throughwing by wing dragging wing and who broke the hive’s…