Bit on the bone-white caps
Of my thumbs on-way
To you, sober as a shrimp’s tramping
Eyes at the end of its stalk.
Had a maladious projection on paper today,
Of shyness, porous as fog; every delayed
Communion driven down the hall
Where my blame stays
Displaced. Not much to say
That’s humble.
Aug 23, 2025
Aug 23, 2025 at 12:30 AM UTC
Bit on the bone-white caps
Of my thumbs on-way
To you, sober as a shrimp’s tramping
Eyes at the end of its stalk.
Had a maladious projection on paper today,
Of shyness, porous as fog; every delayed
Communion driven down the hall
Where my blame stays
Displaced. Not much to say
That’s humble.
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