(2014)
every other part of something else so arranged.
shall we turn down the covers, crawl inside? find there a place that’s been waiting for us, a vortex of sorts
webwomb’s not the maker of me. came into it as falling is done. down, only always
every story, especially those promising finally to grant the square hat with tassels, is a load of shit. the god which
does a king come ready– made, or doesn’t he emerge from a prince once a frog, and aren’t you
yeah, the contract the social one, so long ago supposedly agreed to, we were born instead into. what
leaning into, not against it. no, decidedly for, yes, always that, no matter
first fruits hardly a handful, the garden
now, I’m no Bukowski but my friends who don’t like poet… except his stuff, tell me they like mine, and I can drink like a drinking machine
I understand the tattoo now “VERITAS” on your wrist, only there because it is entirely absent everywhere else.
my spirit sings to you, clears and quickens. losing you is impossible
better fucking eat it all up. time is getting drunk & may puke, be rude, before finally
there are never really any angels in god’s company, it really just pretends them
was all stupid. you weren’t that entertaining. i find it all only sad now, that
something you need makes you its bitch, yes even as it isn’t coming, no when love stands you up & all the more sweet
when (finally) we meet I’m thinking spring wildflowers will bloom on high