COVID-19
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Dear Oblivion
So much light, dear oblivion, night after night; I offered up my body. You refused. I drank. Begged, really. Said my dreams, you don’t belong here. Some countable mornings ahead, crouched in the internet’s dark corners, hands reaching into prosaic brightness, not to gather, but offer: News spreads of a virgin conception. And so much…
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Paterson is Yours
blood-bunny lays on false facealone in encouraging corners halogen burns —it is relevant to observe— spanish communists hidden in bowling bags and electricteeth gnawing at gates of dawn soon we’ll all be frozenbelly of lake coronavirus deep unremarkable remembrance of celebritysuperstition swirling around salon breeze transfixing artificial and drunkdo i hear guitars preserving structures of…
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