for a moment of joy or moments no one pays for, i give myself a ‘jornal’. this makes me rich. try it.


(one of my last poems at otata defunct since)

do foxes exist like we do?

thirst for what’s good like silence

sound fractures people’s heads

under cover of light

there’s iniquity dancing in the leaves

would fox howl if I whisper “I thirst for wind-drips”?

he draws his being up as if

there’s dawn in the guise of stalled words

digs the gloom

and cries leaving

purpled patches in my head…/otata-47


December 10, 2020 - Posted by | Uncategorized

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