ant5

•

my conversation

with you goes better

now you’re not here

•

•

•

you can’t have

my soul I gave it

to John Fahey

•

•

•

my amygdala

returns with

some blunt objects

•

•

•

back when

your only problem

was verbs

•

•

•

what we’ve cobbled

from our ruins

lets in the wind

•

•

•

the mist sits

like soft serve

on the green hills

•

•

•

wet under

the sheets

we negotiate

•

•

•

you see the fly

again and decide

he’s not so well

•

•

•

a lot of thoughts

during the tea’s

last minute

•

•

•

that gift

doesn’t go

under that tree

•

•