Monday, November 21, 2016





black hulks smoking

tiny sleeps cross your
borderless sky a fork
rusts in the wine you
sunk your face in ah li
mit speech was rope
trailed behind uh sh
attered neck slides dow
n a dune your motion
clouds your inky
knees carved with ears


Hacked from Ivan Argüelles'
Upon Waking To the News”

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