Wednesday

rest repose compose

 rest repose rose the air is blank . hollow spaces venture your conjecture . the machine is a book. spitting out dime. nickel. phosphate. toes.


have any heard this of this thing hanging roun' wolves? wolves dangle round their own chains, neck of heart hearing to piece its pot of the pie and more that way none hears the clamour of rough or the weeds of talk   ~  little darling you've held the stem long enough. fingers to balk their wedding blues, balked by the blues missile of their love. Jill states categorically: if they want to play theatre so can we : as real as real getting  ~


________________  O foolish finger of the sobbing winds .