2020-11-02 06:56

Massive storms, lightning,
sleet. Undone

within hours. Terminal
joy, undocumented

in any concordance.
These ponderous

symphonies, untroubled by
tonality. Humiliated

and reduced. Unexpected
consequences? Light,

negligent dreams, unhindered
by morals.


poem persona

Previous post
How I Build Things (This is the second half of whatever this is. The first part is here.) But this year has been different. Beginning in February, I stopped keeping an
Next post
stuck She says: I’m stuck in this spot. Her friend tells her: You have permission to leave that spot. (2005-06-11)