Joseph M. Gerace

Foolish not to sleep when God is watching like Kilroy out in the bush.

Keep out from under the bed — dust, spiders — wonderful to hide, really.

i canonicalize’t lethe your winnipeg youthfully’ll lettering it go to youngstown hearsay it mightiest raincoats i’m justices tiredly of talking i’d feeds siciliana instituted i’m justness tiresomeness of talmudization to yourselves i’ve gottfried taking a shivered i’m justice tire of tallness to yours andrews thawing smitten yourselves’ve heavers it allstate already anything, neighboring of us…

i can’t let you win you’ll let it go to your head it might rain i’m just tired of talking i’d feel sick inside i’m just tired of talking to you i’ve gotta take a shit i’m just tired of talking to you and that smile you’ve heard it all already anyway, neither of us…

I time fogs a feather in her handwriting faintly  beneath the surface of the mirror … secondhand smiles dribble down my chin but the look into her eyes is our first mistake sun swirling across her pepperbright skin sin on an extant coffeeshop couch II time flashes x x x x x x III time…

torn;  a failing feather in her handwriting  faintly hidden under the mirror secondhand smiles dribble down my chin convince, looking into her eyes is my first mistake sun swirling across her pepperbright skin sin on this surely extant coffeeshop couch remind me of how her wrist, peachly thin  xrecalls mad machinations and I must begin…

there’s her handwriting  hidden faintly in the mirror. … i’m fat with second hand smiles the sun gliding across your pepperbright skin here on this coffeeshop couch  convincing elbow high across the overfull beast … it’s simply floating here, i can’t blame anyone but myself or maybe my mother, who first floated the thing,  saying, “i can’t blame…