The amplitude of echoes
Function like a phantom limb
Glucose seeps into the cells
Smell of white gas and charcoal
A swale once full of shoulder depth snow
Did you know Frazil are ice crystals
Formed in turbulent water, as in swift
Streams or rough seas?
Paradise? This isn’t paradise, son
You’ve cracked a tooth
The world doesn’t need anymore people
No further congestion or metal grates
I’ve apologized for the Spanish Inquisition
You can purchase a guayabera made China
Why did she pop up in a search for sorghum?
Her voice is a natural vibrato
Now you’ll have to get by on your own.
What I’m Reading:
“for life’s not a paragraph
And death i think is no parenthesis”
— E. E. Cummings / “[since feeling is first]”