Lonely glint above my car the moon that is small enough to fall between prison bars have you chosen to sit on the planes and quit chasing me past the hornbeams yet? (make it quick, it must be now) really, while picking fruits from the market stepping out to a streetlight, then stop once...Read more

‎ ‎As we first looked up from our beds― ‎ ‎ in one frame, some might've intervened ‎ with a constellating mobile. it is the ‎ ‎roiling oil ahead―Van Gogh ‎ presented to us with but a healing ear. ‎ ‎no factory fog, no veteran's vision, ‎ nor photo sepia. Saint-Rémy seemed ‎just a half-charred cel...Read more

‎‎021 where the cornrows are wild ‎in fettle; open curls on the roadside. ‎ ‎out there, dead or alive ‎my face is probably on the trees, ‎like any other crime―charged with a fee. ‎ ‎I'm taking my cloves of mangosteen―to ‎another country in the west with me; taking my shoes off on road concrete. ...Read more