Category Archives: Poetry

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

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

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

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

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