July 1, 2020 § 1 Comment
tremor in the doctor’s call hardening my song
There are twenty-two kinds of sweater
in case the interrogator asks
the dance of metallic pigeons contrary to the opal
in my rice
someone else’s pebble in my shoe
Lori A Minor
you feed the cat
a little salami
becoming mirrors all the dead clouds
in your footsteps the alphabet of dust
night time heat –
on his breast pocket
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Wonderful! Enjoying them all!