storms flow in and out
pushing lives through that black canal

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is never itself in the thing
through the running denim pruned middle
java reading bytecodes
droplets birds construction under in
screams hoffman doctor
a asleep green in fury
Your in life, throw
half-lidded back leaning and
the on cop you locking behnd
from of the wreckage father stepping my
glass down in laying
they’re this crabby morning
in upend i quenching
won’t alone her let her mind
out ate her i
and pink idle amethyst and
innocence your century was
of grated the to degree rupture
thing this has itself never been for
the squirming think kittens of
i smoke seep
black night a that core slept i
almost dew objects fossilized with
phones feather cell voices
have think to texture i about the

Generated by King’s Woods, http://www.lewislacook.org/kingswoods/index.php