its-toasted
SWIM GOOD
tim / dmv / 20s / ghostwriter
mess with words for a living
like weed and dog walking
♥
Δ SLAPKISS
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though I think home might do something
to help me open up when I'm in my head &
then 2 hours in a living room alone will have me
thinking over things too much.
there is a call that you interpret as a fire alarm and
waiting for the delivery made you inclined to
blow out all the candles just in case --
so smile at the person you see walking on the street
even though you may be hard to find
from behind a darkened window and a fridge
afraid of being known.
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Best I’ve felt since February. Thank god for the dog for real, or the last 9 months would’ve been deep. I got 0 new pomes to play, blank page still hates me. But a couple months back Eduardo Corral read my chap and really felt that shit, it got a 2nd runner-up. Had a good run but never got picked for publishing. I’m trying to start something new but not there yet
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curiosity got the better of picking up the same apple toppled at the store, locking gaze via words alone, textual
hydropump locking eyes to devour, fill interlaced fingers, smell iron,
it’s a profound chaos without interchange to go scorpio on blunt virgo-ne limbo,
one ankle short a hawaiian vacationed girlfriend, livin’ it up, “heal my heart,” woe is plastic cast without signage,
marking wolf fangs enmeshed in three words vocalized and incapable of hyphens, say it every time to
call a flourishing garden “mine,” like life could belong to anyone,
hold the bare laundry room the way we were born when the window glass thickens, no one’s alarmed but a blanket, quarter chimed, cycling
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Georgia O'Keeffe, Untitled (Landscape), 1817
Adrienne Brugger Sketchbook watercolor on paper 28.8 x 19.4 cm
Georgia O'Keeffe Museum, Santa Fe, New Mexico 1
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The Evening - Naila Hazell
British , b. 1981 -
Acrylic on cardboard , 28 x 36 cm.
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Never loved a cat before. This is all very new to me
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crows pecking at the remaining stars scattered
across the muddy yard of 309
^ here I was a thing
there is no language when I see you again
the mountains once shook at their roots
and we thought it would be clouds that shaped us
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