You've Got A Beautiful Voice

and tall eyes

and my cloak is falling
down
like twisted metal

that's gotta hurt..

no
i just dream about your blue
and its dark folded hours

where patterns pause..

yes
and maybe
where angels pay the missing postage

..
snippets

growing on the roof of the birdhouse

snow flowers
quiet as his hoodie

my love:

wanders in his downed hum
spreading salt here and there



sliding through the sun

what use are these, you shriek, flinging your flip flops to the watery sky. trivial cash falls out, sloppy and shy. i want to part your equatorial hair down the middle