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Inflation made buzz-chasing a group effort, & so we’d throw in our fivestil’ they added up to an offer worth the weedman’s crosstown trek.Split & gut-dump cigarillos preparing for the arrival of our cologne.Our blood-shot slits. Our giggle fits we were too man to call giggle fits.& in da homie’s sky blue big body, we cruised the countrysideof our small college town searching
The Pennsylvania snot otter, endangered, leads the news crawl,trends above POTUS, also endangered, while Mike Kappel,self-proclaimed serial entrepreneur, hawks Patriot Software.Oh, boy. Crowded. Last summer Greenland was cloudless—cloudless! clutched in earth’s blue curve. On every prior flightin high-latitude light—veiled, ice-mizzled, boundless…
I read how candles made from human fatglow brightest, how everythingcan be seen in that light,hunger, you.I remember and forget your face.it may be what Enheduanna,Sumerian moon priestess,wrote: my beautiful face is dust.a river sings near your grave.I tell you of a manwrapping his body in newspaperbefore putting on clothes.he spoke of a bombed kitchen wall,women
Looked at me, cocked two fingers like a pistol, gently pressed them into my sternum and said: "There is a place in there, untouched by space and time where you are solid as an onion, packed with buried beauty, with translucence born of darkness, where you arequiet as a chapel empty of all echo."º"Okay, cool," I said. "I'll keep that in mind."ºBut he was not finished:"Know that
The adventurer had been dying for thirty-seven hours now, though her death had begun several weeks before. It was no one’s fault but her own. Her hand slipped, the knife lost purchase on the hard wood of the log, the blade bit the tender webbing of her thumb. The cut bled, but it wasn’t deep—barely a little slit, nothing more than you’d get chopping carrots in a kitchen, and