the template was destined to be wrong.
It took me decades to see why.
history of mistakes added up to delusion
alien failures became domestic madness Continue reading “3Ts”
is the rustling leaves in the soft wind,
in the whisper of sheets in the nooks of blue
is the nightly cricket’s song for fireflies,
is a hotel room I have no memory of
is a layer of discarded skin and dust
is a patched-up-river of cut movement
is my daydream sewed together into
something comprehensible and real
more genuine and true than the actual day Continue reading “numb”