finally over too his name was Joe his parent’s couldn’t how could a little boy know skeptical of skepticism crook or mystic two spoons self-concerning doubts about her doubt bare winter who can blame strained comforters ‘not a party exactly’ his basketball jersey the architecture of possible some useless god Don isn’t broken(…)
gorgeous liveries more than common truants no narrow gamut or Paula did not decline as her architect the good the gods broken colored glass strong shadows nude, garnished walls
hat at an angel to the school as a school all famous a red nose winter and summer three Andrews old heads too stupid to tell a lie hair and laps ‘it is will’ stumbled and died
they believed in a time when she alone something more liver friendly she read his mind ‘just this once’ car equals limo an embryonic premonition burden of being an only child multi-racist whoredom gruesome threesomes he cools, she lies rehab now surprise, curiosity, pity red trousers turn against our own none(…)
always late summer knew every herb of falling raising him with kisses of fresh chives say Goya’s deafness ‘I wasn’t myself’ through fur trees twelve months they stole my pillow with a silk bookmark
somewhere nearby laptops and ringtones Staten Island, of course good girls didn’t go to Brooklyn at Coney Island alive but graying hair like hay
new false teeth ten yards by five on the fat fat as were in and out of my mind I never remember her when she wasn’t cooking into the Beachwood beds of dead bees snubbed me bite the worm other fingers keeling thought as near to poetry with butter-colored hair with a big(…)
