i hid oceans in my pockets,
we spoke
of the logistics of clovers, and you
spun desires into
framed tapestries,
already lined with dust,
perhaps it was an accidental
triangulation-embodying the whiplash
of a 'c'. (the contracts slipped from between my fingers,
and i turned to go
cover my childhood in sheets.)















Comments
--
one half of *ZombiesAteUs
--
"millions long for immortality who do not know what to do with themselves on a rainy sunday afternoon." -susan ertz
Bravo!
--
"I'm unclean, a libertine/And every time you vent your spleen,/I seem to lose the power of speech,/You're slipping slowly from my reach.../You grow me like an evergreen--/You never see the lonely me at all."
--
as if this is the end.
like split pillowcases lining the walls and hiding beneath dinning room tables
--
"millions long for immortality who do not know what to do with themselves on a rainy sunday afternoon." -susan ertz
--
"millions long for immortality who do not know what to do with themselves on a rainy sunday afternoon." -susan ertz
--
"millions long for immortality who do not know what to do with themselves on a rainy sunday afternoon." -susan ertz
--
"millions long for immortality who do not know what to do with themselves on a rainy sunday afternoon." -susan ertz
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