are fur note
half a note yesterday passed to a teacher who appeared in a zen moment that said you are ready i’m running a kerouac road with
a music, a painting
how free do you feel about saying fuck off? leaning into the wind of the stare of another? brother motherfucker tell some shithead he’s a
watch the birds
i’ll sit here and you sit there be aware i’m sending up a warning flare this is healthscare not healthcare spinning out of some kind
only ten people
like it’s a fucking selling point time and body out of joint the kind of day you want to anoint with a sneeze, with a
every lessen
every lesson a dull head learns is something that a dull heart earns in the field the body burns narrow in the fallow until the
the wait of unknown soldiers
the weight of unknown soldiers here on unknown shoulders shrugging up from climates that are colder and seem more so as we grow older dead
past gravity
pick up the slack the let loose chaos a handful of dusky blooms cast across the floor to cushion the light footfall we were inside
A Simple Man
A simple man born into a time where people are not the same. Technology snakes its way through the umbilical and implants, unless like him
Turning Up
You do sometimes run out of things to say about writing. You do sometimes run out of things to write. What do you do then?