nostrils for plague

Back Home Tanka

Back from the sun’s glare—
Fog obliterates the sky—
It’s good to be home.
The birds shroud their songs in gray—
We swab our nostrils for plague.

What I’m Reading:

“Eat and write or die.”

— Jim Harrison / The Search for the Genuine: Selected Nonfiction, 1970-2015

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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