scraps of prose

things chime

will will

eight blocks through stuff

designed for discomfort

snowy half-legal

also green


at the age of eighty-six


Cicero and I

up the low

Cicero chuckles

about our ears

and man midwife

decidedly sniffy

the babies of

the better off

a free snipe of stow

panes and panes of it

capitalism comes