Pigmalia

and people too







Sardonic faces pop from out the wood
Tunes bask in the soot
as children
carve ancestry on walls

Oh farms

Day Seven

on an evening such as this
your words cut butter
your eyes chuck corn

Day Six (ugh)

in the belly of the sky
my days are devoid,
and i miss my friends
and my sister
amen

Day Five

Where are the good times lurking,
you lacklife scallywag

Day Four

Abodes a bustle.
Funky not junky.

Day Three

I am lengthy charges of depth and grind.

Day Two

Wyeth in my hands