droopy daisy runny rose broken baby's breath carnation spotted spider mites and willow close to death untidy shopping cart discarded crumpled plastic wrap all cheerfully awaiting the final rf zap
March 24, 2022
Month: March 2022
it's happiness that's unfamiliar, that glow of know- ing home, that i belong. it's this, this disconnect, this ground level lights dimmed, this narrow narrow- ing. this swallowed muddy pool, this, this is familiar.
March 24, 2022
snow globe I need you to stay home snow globe you don't need to be okay you just need to stay home snow globe until I get there snow globe you wait for me you continue to be snow globe you don't know how much you mean to me snow globe you stay there you wait for me snow globe I'm coming home
March 15, 2022
I occupy no permanent space I move I'm already gone I'm a construct an automaton in auto motion rotating around time clock collaborator in time clock out of sync out of touch adrift inconsequential a product a service I move I flee into clouds like stepping stones into flood lamps in motion afraid to look up to see a minneola sunset wheeling overhead like smoke like dust like ripples on a pond to watch some other construct in motion rotating outward toward the infinite exhale of the cosmic microwave background I move on I'm already gone.
March 9, 2022
a poem doesn't have to be special a poem just has to be what it is
March 7, 2022
