in this quiet we are ghosts twitching eye – wet lip smack breathe breathe be gross – fuck be this great fantasy just don’t forget to breathe… Read more “.45”
Category: August 2018
Goblets
In a melting pot, into the wind, bearded snow-flakes tumble and blend. In a Wichita banquet the legs are erect to a taste of new flesh and… Read more “Goblets”
To Yield
To yield and climb these buttered-rung heights is to be something above that station we have known. This yielding is to break the hands that hold shoulders… Read more “To Yield”
Vast Imbecility 