make a flat about me

implore the dishes
as an ill-fated magazine might
after a few tumultuous departures
spent amiably among the geraniums

she wheels an epilogue of desires
words pale in sequence
misericordia perhaps
a sugar narration for certain
cut along the arthouse seam

it rains all day here
episodic and flat
the haze of woodsmoke
disintegrating on a sugary cloud
beggaring at the sunset
elliptic and amorphous

he omits knocks
along the charnel house doors
counting on the spectator to dot the i’s
and cut the t’s
taking stabs at the cult of the inflatable earth

fingers the absurd artistic crown
he’ll never wear

What I’m Reading:

Evil has no alternate plan. It is simply incapable of assuming failure.

— Cormac McCarthy / The Passenger