APRIL 28, 2024
birds sing all night
around the brightly lit park
and down here
we are hiding
from power and its decline,
the hollow sounds of care and
cruelty
i begin to notice things
close by,
growing to fit the size of my tank.
down here
my skin may turn translucent
and soft under the new names
in the fragile dark.
i don't think there's any going back
currently listening to:
APRIL 26, 2024
you go to the store
and, in the streets,
seethe red misanthropic.
this is normal.
once a day
in the city it is like this.
real estate is scarce,
no space to spare.
an old man cuts in line at check-out,
looks at you
and shrugs.
but then there are people here
walking small dogs also
currently listening to:
APRIL 24, 2024
dread, fear,
may our official be not
spiteful.
may our petition
be found worthy
currently listening to:
APRIL 22, 2024
design for living
is a movie
we watched
part of
tonight
on the couch
edward everett's
makeup
a buoy life vest rubber raft
and in our dub
gary cooper's
love for tom
filthy and honest
currently listening to:
APRIL 20, 2024
a shower speech
on organizing.
a dream about pot smoking
at your dad's.
the outer worlds,
they won't let me go
currently listening to:
APRIL 19, 2024
the rain came down
and i made holes in the wall
not like men do
in america
where everything is paper
i used a drill
our house is brick
but
i am tender and strong —
enough to hang a coat rack
for aprons and bags
currently listening to:
APRIL 17, 2024
looking at it like this,
one sees the rails never meet.
but lucky for us,
our steel is bent.
currently listening to: