Wednesday, July 1, 2015





the exit A

the glass of milk a nostril
is your gravel fills your
shoe contains a hand
your nodding on the
plaza bench a sh
dowed room was is a
where your knee walked
off the curb your vein
was throbbing in the
sunset was the empty
glass




A

t
th
thr
thro
throaBbbbtbbbb s

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