Promise
that despite my
late reply
i’m
getting
by,
tho not by
much..
to try before
i forget
why.
Gored
by horns of
vices
chasing solace within
madness
of
glitch moon
spun
to
face..
to face with
no one.
were i to comply
and sign
my full name
under
skin
might you
feel
me through
veins
without need
to say?
breathing feathers
and ash
in
nap weather’s
grasp,
rapt by the
rattle
of
crickets litter
thickets
flush as wide
in cabin
eyes.
how’s your cloud?
bird only
i see
feet never reach
branch
braids around
trunk
as
if rooted in
dance
of the dapper
drunk.
salved by moon like
mother’s
milk..
mustache at PJ
picnic
kiss of meadow mist
on blister
tree,
trilling every word
to honor
bird
it
feels only
i see.
on mad quest for
porridge
armed with pot and
bottomless
spoon
and with fervor of
such research
my gut shall be
mush by
noon.
she welcomes freedom
with tears
sheen
like shoreline
of stars
not seen as bright
through
bars.
relieve raw tickles
my tonsils
from fury’s fumes
guzzled
when too frazzled to
refuse time’s
muzzle
pet or words
run red.
i surmise failure to
thrive
forms a fist like
the glove
fits
loner likely
to be
hit
by self-inflict
stick,
a longing to shed
dad skin
and
seek shiny slit
to slip
in.
hands in the garden 
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