jay giron [15:40] little bird sang in my ear this morning: “`talk to any every mofo out there, get better Continue reading
Lift the fear, like a child fallen, from a kite white forgotten
Favor the fear, like a child. Feed it a broken wing of a bread. Leave it unburied, like our dead.
The scent of fear is kerosene and cancer
You floated far, fast, firm, forgotten like a kite.
The fear you lifted like a child fallen like a kite forgotten descends a cancer wind. One aches for a wing of a Continue reading
Mary, i want to give; to turn the wide space open arid empty of my long-since death i, dead, still Continue reading
Give the war its head. Let it choose who are to be its dead.