two days ago the old woman
wanted me know how cold she was
placed two black fingers on my neck said See?
and of course I already knew
/bone cold has a smell/
in return I warned her off
THIS IS NOT A SAFE PLACE
Tag Archives: work poem
lot dogs 11
the principle simple: slow
is faster and here we are
all extra elbows and broken light sticks
just waiting for the clock to run out
lot Dog 10
that first star post
sunset hangs low so low
like that last dream sweet
dream before the morning alarm