yellow paint changes things
the poet’s words are less in the ground
more of a tinkering matter
silence sounds like ceiling fans and espresso filling tiny glasses
i eat the silence one breath at a time
in my seat, alone, happily considering very little
finally
the poet’s words are less in the ground
more of a tinkering matter
silence sounds like ceiling fans and espresso filling tiny glasses
i eat the silence one breath at a time
in my seat, alone, happily considering very little
finally