Mojave Desert crushed cars stacked six, seven, ten tall. From the junkyard juts a billboard:

You can get better, or you can get worse, or you can stay the same. But you can’t change. Nope!

Trees poke from the earth like the mummified hands of the martyrs. Buried alive, they strained with last breath

Are we in the field or on the field? When I soar for the disc I wonder how that cloud got its shape.

When the world wasn’t burning I felt optimistic that one day I could come home

There was on my property an old gnarled stump, it was weathered and hardened, It was aesthetically pleasing as d… but I decided to take it to a spec…

Nirvana is acquittal, wearing sweatpants in an empty cou… drunk, singing songs about the Southland. God has fashioned my heart like a…

Incense thick with a scent that is true and a bit soiled and dense so dense I lift

Nothing is all I ever wanted, now I’ve got it all! Careful! Lest I become a braggart… From nowhere it’s a hard fall.

I saw a man and his crumb snatcher… sprawled on the porch of their hom… it was painted a bright ocher with… small, modest, humble, clean, givi… A joy, in short.

Ancient meadow preadolescence, burgeoning and righteous never-ending dimension first sighted past your fingertips… is stolen by ambition,

The moment you flit by my ear, my strings are severed, I droop like a marionette— I remember I know nothing.

I remember being unmoved at more than one funeral at more than one memorial looking about impatiently impervious to the cries of the cry…

I feel newly acquainted with this skin, everything is novel, intensity is wherever my eyes land,

Just leave the fucking flags at ha… Or half-staff. Or whatever it’s called. Just fucking leave them there.