(2014)
people, mostly all barely beyond apes, cannot be trusted. they are incapable of caring
I love how you talk Down to everyone In your poems Which, unlike fiction Are not covered
got the sex drive of 15 young bulls, but the women are all scared.
oh, and how it gets you these bastard assumptions, one or two commonalities
every story, especially those promising finally to grant the square hat with tassels, is a load of shit. the god which
Fieldwizards and firetops. Wobblybirds on snowflowers. Chilled milk and chowder for the little prince. Mothercake for mumbled thanks.
let’s put all the stupid things in a pile and call them “love” or “worry” or
drry awfl drd sys thngs tk t lng & y bttr hrry lst y
was all stupid. you weren’t that entertaining. i find it all only sad now, that
first fruits hardly a handful, the garden
why is nothing i can do now. where it went. what that echo means, if anything
the center holds itself still that rockets believably may be seen exploding in all directions from somewhere vaguely
does a king come ready– made, or doesn’t he emerge from a prince once a frog, and aren’t you
love does not beat on doors, beg at tables. it is always
if ever someone is my dearest ear who hears my truth as theirs