In-between Spots

I will share this parking spot with you, The malign yellow sleeve of paint Pocked with years of re-coating, Greened Continue reading →

Grocery Store

There, I saw the fright of a little girl in red and white, this crooked wince, her reeling little shape Continue reading →

Onion Paper

the haggard onion paper: its torn purple cavern shudders against two digits out the window. the passing trees and telephone Continue reading →

Wordsworth Re-worded

Wordsworth’s poetry has always bothered me. It has to do with the way his words sound in the mouth while Continue reading →

Money Pit

  Rocket of antebellum Ship of tribal plenty How come I don’t read about you in the papers? Ancient tons Continue reading →