Member since July 11, 2009 | 0 Readings |
Subscribed by thomas fucaloro
Brooklyn by way of Piedmont
I’ve been to Asheville. Maudeville. Dollywood. / The vaudevillian neon ache, the cannibal notions of a circus / population fucked up on…
It’s like we’ve said before: earth won’t fluff / its cushions for us, why should heaven? / Idiocy makes for good talk, but / / banter alone…
“I’m alone in the…”
I’m alone in the tourniquet of shade in / the garden watching apples assail space / with the way they punctuate it. / / They’re so good at…
Currywood. Running. Noon. Bright.
Around the apricots. Damascos. That’s Spanish for. / The breeze. Hissing in my. Where did my breath. / I need it back. I’m running. The water....
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