A man walks in through a nondescript entry and is presented with a catalog of boots, so that he may choose according to his whim, fancy, or usual preference: cowboy, knee-high, stiletto, fur-lined, fisherman, mid-calf, Wesco, hiking, rain, and the like.
Nown
Hop hop hop
goes the busy noun
following its chosen object
around like an angry bee, but mor
Sidereal Noon
jumper cables in bloom
die hard fans weigh in on the victory
it means nothing
Winter in You
Have I seen such a tower
Her fleshy, spectacular hand
Would the dogs not find
from “LISA ROBERTSON: SEVEN WALKS”
The First Walk We are guided. We are we. Foxed and shaded, sliding over the surface of civilization which is reading behind us or reading inside us is a civil contract shattering in its choices. There is the Styrofoam cup and the paradise that is likely not quite ready for us, crushed. The petal in […]
Two
macho sam and his tattoos i like playing hopscotch i like to cross the street on red i’ve got a tiger tattooed on my chest and a sheep on my left shoulder sometimes i forget my woman in the drawer sometimes i lick the ink off the dinner plates i love myself for a few […]
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