untitled #23
flash before me once againsparse images that might have been
and rest within
the folds of pages
never turned
composed
in sin
Cherub Playing a Lute (1521) rosso Fiorentino
photographed on Av. Bourbonnière
Poem archive
sparse images that might have been
and rest within
the folds of pages
never turned
composed
in sin
The Story of an Artist
The spider doesn’t know how beautifulher web looks, all coated in frost.
This is because, of course,
the cold killed her.
It is also because of This,
that we consider her an artist,
rather than an inconvenient pest.
Struggle Meal
Wait in knee-high socks for the pot to boil over.Plant another kiss on my forehead and don’t hold the spit.
If there’s one thing I am aware of, it is the presence of water
in everything.
Can’t ever get dry.
Can’t seem to get warm.