Key

Mug

Black, with an unmoving base.  Hands swing close, voices define.  Lonely as I sit on tile made of clay.  Paper flips flaps. Thud.

Cemented in Brown

We say we as we wear jackets with gloves.  A pattern which works against my wiring. A need to carry is felt, of what is lost.  Worries about the body of my work and my own. 

Assent

In the past two days

Watch movies about wealthy bums are attacked by blue light, set to the backdrop of a shiny suburbia.

Snow in May

Softball is, what baseball was before apple pie was made over seas.