May 2013
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Happy St. Totteringham's Day everyone!
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real time poem created while I scrolled through my...
You have not lived and I have died, and when you die all does not go black but the colors of cinemascope on rusted Sundays, burnt marigolds across the plains, red plastic guns and vinyl crates. You saw your funeral on breakfast plates, business cards and empty offices. Your heart beat with the stale pulse of show homes and the coffin leather of motorcycles waiting for an invitation you’re...
this is why we fight: Life-Hook, by Juana de... →
buttholeproblems:
Love: if I die don’t take me to the cemetery. Dig my grave just at ground level, near the laughing Divine disturbance of a birdhouse. Or by a fountain’s haunting talk.
Just at ground level, my love. And almost above earth Where the sun can heat the bones, and my eyes, Extended, as if into…
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