browns & withers

Driving the Heat Dome

Traveling sorts her memories.
Driving to Miami sharpens
her father’s voice—like acid
catalyzing in her ears boring
a ragged chute to her amygdala—
simultaneously black-holing her backward
and shooting her into an uncertain future
full of Get to Know Jesus and Get Your Guns
& Ammo
Here billboards. She fights.
She flees from all her ghosts. She barrels
south—under the heat dome.

Tobacco leaves yellow—corn browns & withers—in her wake.

What I’m Reading:

“Nothing besides remain. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The line and level sands stretch far away.”

— Percy Bysshe Shelley / “Ozymandias”

About istsfor manity

i'm a truncated word-person looking for an assemblage of extracted teeth in a tent full of mosquitoes (and currently writing a novel without writing a novel word) and pulling nothing but the difficult out of the top hat while the bunny munches grass in the hallway. you might say: i’m thee asynchronous voice over in search of a film....
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