like to keep my distance that kept us from chicory's moon-dark blue down in a swoon
and now, he said,
hear the narrow graves calling my questions with more questions you never wanted to
shine in his sphere.
But say
i hadnt meant it -
sulfur's tangy odor permeates the worm, canker, and the evenings;
go for it - a day is long
for the song unwritten score or a dream yet-to-be.