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micropoetry

  1. every time i meet someone it's a little kiss. then i put my mouth on theirs and slip em the tongue.
  2. Bukowski like fire in my belly and Kerouac like my own patron saint of wanderings.
  3. each of these words is a small sin in the doubting of providence.
  4. i'll always imagine my grandfather as old, his creaky arthritic knuckles complaining under the planes he fixed in the war.
  5. delightful possibilities open before me like an origami flower and i wonder, what the fuck am i doing?
  6. these trees are still dressed in flesh, but their cheekbones have gone hollow and their ribcages are showing. soon they'll be skeletons.
  7. cloves and a forty of pbr. this poison gives life
  8. playing Cyrano to my own Christian
  9. Darkness stalking the edge of town like a mad night falling.
  10. All that's left is words I wish I had invented.
  11. The childlike scribbles traced by the needle of record-skipping time.
  12. The last thing the axe chops is its own handle.
  13. The irreducible complexity of irreconcilable contradictions.
  14. wearing out my memories like overused LPs.
  15. I fill the you-shaped hole with what I wish you were.
  16. Camas fields like the headstones of dead angels.
  17. despairingly hopeful like a credit card in a wishing well.
  18. You wandered back into view like the moon on a sunny spring day
  19. stepping on all continents at once, watching a fat man walk by with all of Ecclesiastes printed on his shirt.
  20. everything in this gelatin world is sooner or later adopted by mother saw and father axe.