| in_waving_wind | ||
| z | in air. and seven breezes blow across and around my smiling face. opioid cool frosts my blue-tinted cheeks. rain, running down my cheeks of life, drips and pools on the sealed pavement. and i wait. the breeze picks numb spots on hand, leaking from my pocket. day starts in the empty lot outside. day is the breathless utterance. the subvocal gasp. the cry for tolerance. the exhaled and sweet breath of dying, dried petals. the moving piece. | 141001 |
| ... | ||
| Abstract | the blank of white still facing, turntables scratched with rain, knowing a close view of concrete, staring, staining, waving the wind, to part the stones. gravity is grave from the hills. | 141001 |
| ... | ||
| (z) | (i like your blathe, abstract) | 141003 |