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kdmillsPoems
2/13/2016 "*notice how he has numbered the blue veins in my breast. he is building a city, a city of flesh. he is an industrialist.*" anne sexton i've seen god themself stirring subzero confectioner's sugar around this place, you are the dried up ***** on my face something acrid that i fell asleep and neglected to wash i used to cut down swathes of brambles, and the bees they'd run away when i was a kid they followed me everywhere. "you're sweet, kid" my father would say now he just says i am stupid, so droll as if i've never known that before my bulbous arteries run with the notion of him, sweltering, pointing "bowie's on sale again," the same stamp on the telephone box there, rotting, gentle two years later i say this: there is nothing in princeton and everything in manhattan that princedom where you stumble on ***** sidewalks and run hands along bubonic subway railings where, really wanting to throw myself on the freight rail would just be wanted to throw myself off the Veranzzano. sylvia said it best, i guess my own bell jar sour as ever no matter whether i'm in Bremen Lesotho or in his bed, again i'd find a way to do it, i told her the only place i am willing to.
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Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 2:26 PM UTC
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2/13/2016 "*notice how he has numbered the blue veins in my breast. he is building a city, a city of flesh. he is an industrialist.*" anne sexton i've seen god themself stirring subzero confectioner's sugar around this place, you are the dried up ***** on my face something acrid that i fell asleep and neglected to wash i used to cut down swathes of brambles, and the bees they'd run away when i was a kid they followed me everywhere. "you're sweet, kid" my father would say now he just says i am stupid, so droll as if i've never known that before my bulbous arteries run with the notion of him, sweltering, pointing "bowie's on sale again," the same stamp on the telephone box there, rotting, gentle two years later i say this: there is nothing in princeton and everything in manhattan that princedom where you stumble on ***** sidewalks and run hands along bubonic subway railings where, really wanting to throw myself on the freight rail would just be wanted to throw myself off the Veranzzano. sylvia said it best, i guess my own bell jar sour as ever no matter whether i'm in Bremen Lesotho or in his bed, again i'd find a way to do it, i told her the only place i am willing to.
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kdmills
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 2:26 PM UTC
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