ant5

The old man asks if I want another beating sun

Bloodshot eyes blinking stars across every inch

A song I don’t remember your name

Unable to hear the newborn screams of an illegal war

my pronoun

is “fuck your

guns”

my whole

body is a

spiritual facility

the game

sounds closer

tonight

9/19/19

night tide:

small sandals rise

and slide away from the shore

among sunflowers my boys planting pinwheels

corn silk tassels

describe

a subtle breeze

3:20 migraine

the classroom wall

yellows

backroad slush

a bloody corpse

in recovery position