Old grapes sing hard inside this shallow cup while hens teeth whisper sweetness to the fog.
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Mercy Quantum Dingo
It's a metal box housed in the wall. The lid on the box's face opens the wrong way. It swings up on a bent lever hinge where a sock wrapped around a brass coat hook holds it fast to the rafter above. The cloth wires are gone. Inside it's all tape and whiskers now. These would be used with pride by men. Now they are rarely opened. They sit in basements fading to rust, left alone in the dark.
What say the fallen in theVestibule, late to dinner Warm as a garden chairYes to that, to tea and all in the green as pale as peaches will get Turd Grinder IV: Keep me in line for a little while longer, just until you have to go again. The dark wave and the first jolt from my morning coffee are elements that have yet to sheep. Looking through a ton of old glass is hard. Sitting down and sifting through the odd bits of sparkle and dust left inside this hidey-hole at the bottom of this calendar. There's almost always more bitter mixed in there then there is the sweet. Fontso: I'm so happy-happy to see that this work is being edited down. All of it's been sitting on the back of my desk forever. Where plastic gets soft in the sun and the desks window looks out south all day long it's always so hot. Turd Grinder IV: There's safety in warmth, freedom from reprisal among the pillows, in the soft down. The clock inside is as deep as a clouds kiss. Fontso: Onion thugs, yello…
Juniper, cedar and all that's old tends to settle on the bus in the corner by this door. It's not quick, joints are popping like failure. Left alone in the kitchen, looking for matches until it can light the stove. "There once was a night here," I've said as much before.
Corn conjured syrup from the corn that I brought from the back of the store. The simple pleasure of falling into that warm slip isn't like drying off or tempting the man at all. It's a lottery with pages of never knowing it all the first time that I was there.
A three way intersection where the street is wet. There's shrink-wrap that's been spooled across each of the pedestrian walkways. It's secured with bulky knots to the street lamp, the sign post and the scooter at each of the corners. There's a garage door or something else done up in yellow with blue steel doors. In the street there's garbage and soon enough an umbrella will join your car keys.