Adam mourned,
“She has trouble
acting normal
when she’s
nervous.”
Typewriter Ribbons
Typewriter ribbons
stretched taut across
an expanse of dreaming.
The voyage, bottomless
wells of ink, clinking.
An age of messages seeps
The Cutting Box
One thousand cuts,
drip-dry, spot-by-spot…
I haven’t bled to death,
but I am so, so tired
of hearing the thunder
from those anguished drops.
The Way of Things
So, it seems
that the bees,
and all of earth’s
fine creatures,
have begged pause
in the way of things. Continue reading “The Way of Things”