Nov 1, 2015


I guess we’ll winter the backyard recipes.

Since when does the idea of calling home “fill you with creepy
feelings, like centipedes”?
Passing hell because somewhere coats are on sale.
Bees are the sun, Lion Girl. They know suffering.
You could check on the dogs, you know; those old comedies

of misdirection.
I moved my desk into the summer wardrobe,
the one with the haunted wi-fi.
Someone tried to fax
hair to Dad. We’ve strung the house
with network points. Don’t trip.

“because u miss me”

in black
with u
@ A party

i exist &

shining ghostly in that movie ,
your dead flowers ,
the hook of away

“a way” ?

no -
“away” .

we played dominoes
like shapes in a poem
u drew the pentagram on my car
off key

“sleeping beauty wakes and says”

my arms are just arms
the mammoths draw

hey baby :

ghost texting