Category Archives: Poetry

fervid as perfervid self – same in this heavy book & pertip – arous set, tie the seine  

O well, was I from as far into the arms of that, I’m sure of that, & naturally determined

O hear! it is Aleppo overhead – ‘the big C shining water’, & clearly, ‘that’s my shoulder bag’

from mercados on a bridge from the rolls of the fewest in the pools of the bluest

‘thru the hooves & dune abit, batter’d, but the handle, grip & sandals fit the shiftin’ o’er the traction, by the moon, I’ll wait