A wet Spring slept on the porch Like a damp **** full of Bees From Atlantis. A smudge of bacon in the velvet air of early morn and couldn’t sleep anyway. Lightning; you know the kind that cracks the spine of your bookworm. with pendulous Thunder and Furious - Antlers.
My broken robe draped over the wind Like a baritone glissando sans a piroette as i plant my hushpuppies in the other stillness beneath the breeze… like a petulant peace, ticking like a Balm.