221 Readings


No one believes in my name

for a son or
                 for a daughter.
June       California had hair
down to her little knees. One lone katy
-did donned the deluge. Dance to my blinking
                  lights me up some rub ‘n tug. Dance to hands
rammed, dance.
I squeezed my voice a-totter,
                               believed.                   Hue my sheets
nasty, you.                         I
in you, Mon
’s doom
                                dreams teal.
Posted 10/23/13
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