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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