farmers market
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Dear Oblivion
i’vestubbed my tone againagainst the edgeof some other universeunder the weeklyfarmers marketnear the free whiskeysamples retireddentist whosummers in santamonica whoexplains volatilizationcharcoalfilters in his coronavirusmaskthe perfect giftfor clark i’vetaken off againaround plutoin the byzantineeyes of mannothing to dowife away i’veglanced out againfrom my crashingself sea i’venamed myself againspoiled oilspilled spinningtop approachesedge gravityangel’s sharebitter shipgasping heirto a…
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Hackensack
After Ron Padgett’s Amsterdam The sky has been paved over by no boats in the Hackensack. In the gutters of River Roadwatery asphalt crumblesbecause it is New Jersey and very unwell. Even the street light thinks filth, withthe sadness of her body her electric mind every minuteand Ken Zisa insidethe house watching his Yankeesinning after…
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