(2015)
drry awfl drd sys thngs tk t lng & y bttr hrry lst y
no means no. no response means no. (everyone knows maybe means nothing
every story, especially those promising finally to grant the square hat with tassels, is a load of shit. the god which
like bell bottoms or disco but we need it to think i’m dead
why is nothing i can do now. where it went. what that echo means, if anything
does a king come ready– made, or doesn’t he emerge from a prince once a frog, and aren’t you
god is unwelcome in suburbia, the cells are too comfortable there, & love rests best under stars.
the center holds itself still that rockets believably may be seen exploding in all directions from somewhere vaguely
being drawn back unlike a bowstring but down and in as water finds the lowest
first fruits hardly a handful, the garden
you are guilty of failing to love and understand me, like a dog is guilty of failing to speak or use
we were all talking, things taking shape as they do, when someone said, be desireless, like that is at all a thing people
when (finally) we meet I’m thinking spring wildflowers will bloom on high
cool this angst some with beer, amazing how it works, three in and suddenly ashamed that i could hate
i love you for the doubt you show me still possible in this body where you show me