Sunday, April 18, 2021

A Poem Written A Few Nights Ago

Train Feather 

These periods where sleep sloughs into
gutters, evaporating while I centended with
recolations of prosceniums and false flags
from you. I don't feel literate until I'm on
the L, pricking against the dicks 
and shouldn't I clock in for this? I'm 
standing. What happens the first time
I need to knock off early? 

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Backyard Tercet 09/01/2021

Rotund sweetness of slyly spent day A million chirps bevy into preening billows  So much ripeness, I blossom at the seems