mckenzie-fritzWhisper

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Barely be FlyingStart. Tripp-ing your / sneak-ers on black-brown / alley corr-i-dors fast / you’re stum-bl-ing boy /
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721
The Tired God Must BeTo kill a man / is to flog his hide / if the hide were his brain / and the scars were / meandering /
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634
Before the Beaches Hit SunlightBottle the guilty, and / Bottle the shamed. Send them to / my God’s messenger. / Shatter their patri
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413
To No One in ParticularIf you were here now / like how the red should be in fall / I would wish to somehow / find the movem
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370
UntitledI am the bed in the older boy’s room. / I am the bed in which he stayed up reading / those comic boo
3m
327
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