January is its own ocean, ended
stretched thin like old pizza cheese
centuries of mud mucking beasts
metal-toed and stomping
atop all rambunctious memories
Category Archives: untitled series 1(2022)
y.
this body it sings
ache orchestrates
tempo
whether the soul sack
feels like a song or not
x.
this white boy migas morning
coffee and counting: it’s not the cold
keeping me in no it’s waiting
to wander into the late afternoon
for another peripatetic work call