Monday, November 17, 2014


I wasn't going to tell you this,
but my machine erases things.
The old wet flavor is a hotbed of tension.
I can smell fish in here, Dorothy.
There is a swimming pool and a burnt
car here. Burnt rose bushes and the shell
of a house. Actually, living to drink water.
A sailor could be seen that way. Donating
my Sundays to Mondays. Something gazing
at me. We like our people to do
all kinds of things with their free time.
The wreck of pain in persimmon ankle boots.
A leaf falls from a tree at 63mph.
The status of the probe that landed
on the powdery surface of the comet.
Peggy Lee singing "Fever."


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