I lever my head
open; find only a track
simply repeated.
Notes
on a loop.

Lively unicorn,
roaming through anchored rainbows;
delicious fillet.

Work. Live
terse.
Have money.

They shouldn't have cared, because in Coca-Cola blind we have the unmistakable red of songs for someone that lovers can thin-slice while in the flesh. — Erasure poem from Malcom...

Every ladder in New York infects my street. Their hoses slop, fat white snakes on dusted concrete and spraying water shimmers back the Morse of rooftop lights. On the stairs I meet a fireman, and his...