will the bathtubs of water that diane diPrima warned me to collect irrigate the hot baked sun strikes
where no one came and no one cared
comrades jealous territorial over words that made them who they are
crying hysteric reading ode to radical sobriety while drinking pints of jameson
chicago and appalachia are very different animals
no one wants beat or surrealism until they have given up on everything else
…including wanting me
messy rough write with intent to flirt with stolen oil
familar synethesia with variable accent
he said hello, nice to see you again
…though we had never met
blood curdling blue like the color of his eyes when my chicken bled out
upside down in metal bend
with sheepskin snitch & love display in need of love
…as long as love was invloved at some point…
will they remember me when I am gone
and read my words wondering what it was like to be alive in the end times
of neverfear and nevermore and never will be dead by morning
…she was young and did not know any better
soaping the shadow wants to know what lies behind the door of Vermont
sexing the cherry is still waiting maritime for mermaid to return
parable of the sower stitches to save the memory of what once was her in southern appalachia
fish…
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