My mouth is a Moorish gate of rhinestones and piercings and spikes.
Our stones shear, like our religions, whose fall so near. There’s the catch, the shiver, the beg for a river. Continue reading
Our stones, they shear, they sheer like our religions.
In Korea there was Ajima and her Slickee Boys. Ajima was a jerk-dried cuttlefish of a old woman. Ajima boiled Continue reading
Son came sometimes sad Son made himself mad The son failed to flower every daylight hour One tries not to Continue reading
So I adopted this Black Lab, Nickee. Looks for all the world like every other Black Lab– ‘cept for the Continue reading
god is a bee without a chair, v0 I believe in birds , not bees , nor wasps , nor Continue reading