Friday, January 10, 2014

NO FILTER

Walking slanted
in edgeless

winter, when
my appetite—

like rows of neighbor-
hood blueish

brown brick
houses—soaks a filthy

yellow color, sharply
pointing

toward
a vacant white;

is when
I wish

most of all
that I

still
smoked—hot dry cigarettes.

No comments:

Post a Comment

HOW DO YOU FEEL?