#AmericanWriters
Aunt Winnie fingers the thunder t… so that we have left everything as… but not as a cloud mind steps besi… the slow reservoir now it is all of this, the pink bu…
I hear kitten pawing Cheap rug above my head The plain fact, you see, He is one flight closer To a moon than I becomes
fuzzy jingles snail themselves to a brain leave . . . munch in cute arcs tired riffs of t.v. s… mutts snore under finger tips a rush of familiars
1/ Genius is not a generous thing In return it charges more interest… And it resents fame With bitter vengeance
Ju-jus weaned on jargon of light w… Quasi-larcenous and petite . . . acquiesce under parasols the tudor… of ultra-mexicans bespecled in polaroid filter . . . clandestine…
Lovely tones of mist sweep off the channels of England and the Irish sea ring with the strength of a home, from where you are and from where
First morning air of ocean grief down Brighton Ave. flow like soli… raft through calm river . . . Bus… engine in the grey expanse garage… this stuttering earth . . ..
We read life’s style review shaking from pacts drawn up in past to weep for lost loves
The penalty for desertion is death by a firing squad. I’m saving you this trouble enclosed is a pistol. loaded with only one bullet.
You’re growing up and rain sort of remains on the branches of a tree that will someday rule the earth. and that’s good
Look at it It’s all blank The face in the photograph Too dark for features But the praying mantis
I owe a lot to someone I’ve watch her tear full like an icarus it was like a star which is the sun
Wildlife falls extinct inside tube… burning to the touch moaning wings slide down my window… like lucite tears . . . look here: spiders somersault from attic ceil…
Yesterday you past into your lips... your hips and yo… poor unconsummated memory. we spent sick days was tragic sometimes