top of page
thick recalls jutting,
muddy and frostbitten,
harkening salad days:
proper melting memorial.
stuck on deadwinds,
windfalls.
inlaid the lean months be.
brittle notions
spellbounding,
and burning out a
smoke-sized cradle,
imitating my mass.
O what refuge!
•
sputtering into
clutch mode,
urgency became my
ditty.
a skull full of
houseguests
afraid of the hymn
of you.
pikes
and crowns of battle
on the house.
vastly minding their
specific ranking,
the fan and the bellows pitch feedback
until higher
and more direct
passages of endearment
colonize.
O what refuge!
Zombie Innit?
bottom of page