poetry
Taller In Dreams
the smell is crisp washed cotton baked in the sun some pure love crammed between white-marble shoulders ...
Brooklyn Can Always Burn Down
in the proper place dinners gather flies sparks in the fire of the end-day sun yes, deadly things ...
The Daily Devil
Until the fried eggs arrive: I sweat off the humiliation of Forgetting my manners Succumbing ...
Dirty Chair
 Getting along Washed sheets sag Hot whiskey I watched church on the television From a dirty ...
One Thing, Doctor…
No more pleasant nights Deprived me of blood Kisses of age Run out on me AÂ favorable ...