I peered through granny glasses
at the standard issue
crew cut frat boys
Every Writer
This is about me
U.S. 1 drips into the into the Atlantic
where the sun sets and tourists applaud;
She died like a poem
Wordless and obstructed
I love to see a parking lot being
reclaimed by the weeds,
when it becomes
inamorata of the deep
frozen into their thousand-year dreams,
feed wryly upon one another.
She's sitting on his bed,
Can't remember the deaf or the blind,
The souvenir of illo tempore is lost
With...
your lips,
cut like razors,
tap dancing on inapt destinies.
Fifty Four by Carla Paolini To give my thought a body I choose a corps de ballet...
Down the steep drop-off to sea
without plummeting.
His gift to me: a concealed mirage in an urban wasteland,
tucked away behind Taco Bell and...
