it is a big box the small stuff of a so-called sentimentalist the fragilities’ home in an humilty inseparable such simplicities its until is & fit to silence tomorrow
Category Archives: Poetry
A Wind Up Downtown
a watch repair shop how’s it open twenty fore seven have donuts who step on a dime and a pocket I can’t find which hand upside down a couple of mugs not so good there standbyers text it a locksmith
Now Is Knot A Good Time
in a big city how do pedestrians don’t notice another often an upgrade cannot a right way a cane locate a blue tooth politely what time rover goes a ring around only a foot long
Supply Wagon
toy soldier hetman who paints a prussian bluer only on hilltops where are the buglers hidden below the high notes on grayscale maps as all the dead bolt reinforce a mess tent when even sappers can
Where’s A Ladder
while an aisler how many boxes of bins are as lost I found as a warehouseman it’s this time-punch until nowhere is no-one unless aweigh dust the occasional feather as a sparrow is