you are not the fog i describe, warm these vents as events arrive; a holiday garish though, woman laughs-- you recognize it’s gold-leaf rasp watch in fall as they glide over the dead grass.
I like this a lot, Justin. Sonicrete. I'm going to just go ahead and coin that for this one. By the way, my word verification for this comment is "glessed." This poem is also glessed.
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I like this a lot, Justin. Sonicrete. I'm going to just go ahead and coin that for this one. By the way, my word verification for this comment is "glessed." This poem is also glessed.
and may the fruits of your labor be glessed by the gods of space for all time.
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