Her first name did not fit
she wore cloddy shoes &
knees & elbows were

dead skin & lived
above a bar with
a pockmarked

brother & invisible mother,
she ate cardboard, chalk,
paper & paste;

Glory was her name.

I̫ ̰̻̥̯̰̖̰w̖̤̗̞a̮͚͚̜̹͓n̪͙ͅt̤̭ ̳͍̝͍̰m͓̠y̗ ̯̭̝͎̱̲d͎̼̙̺a̭͈ṳ̺g̦͕͙̠h̲̫̯̩̱t̗͉͚͚̲e̺͔̤̮r̪̲̟̱̭ ͔ba͎c̯k͉̗͖
̭̠̣͍
̜I̗̜ ̰̼̳̥̻̙̹w̳͕̞͚̭̠a̟̠͍̲̦̜̝n̯͖̹̙̦̝̝t͚̙̙ ̦͎͈h͈e̜͚r̯̰͇̦̝,̠̖̞
̪̖̼͈s̫̜he͖ ̣̹w̥a̘̱̯̯s̗ͅ ̤̯͇̖ṣ̩we̱̭̦̭̜̩ͅe̟̩̳͙̝ͅt̪ ̖͇̱̳̪a̲͕̝͈n̠̺̲̬ͅd͚͕̫̪̘̳͇
̞͎͓̣͚̝͚ ̮̜̖ ̩̦̹̞̫̼͈ ̻̠̮̠ ̜̠̼̹͍͍͕k̰͖i̜n͇d̖̦
̥̟̼͇̮ḁ͖̤͓͇͖ͅn̳͉̱̹͕̰̗d̪̻̮̰
͇̜͚̜̮͓̥ ̜͈̭̘͔ ̞n͉͙o͕͔̦͈t̙̯̻̭̱̝ ͖͓̙l̮̳̣͙̞̙i͉͖̱͍͚̥̠ke̖ ̗̩͎̤̪y͖͇̼̯ou̗̬
͖̙̱͓̯̰I̹̺̗̻̼̲̫ ͕͕w̰̳̥̜a͚̯n̩t ̩̺̥͖̤̘h͖͉͖e̖̳͈͙͕̬r̝͓͖ ͇̻̱̖̝b̩a͔̻͇ck̺


I'll send a missive
a parcel, haplessly packaged
by these bumbling, cloddy digits

fill it with frailties
objet d'art of mine
my careful reminiscence

de anima
I will slice
like slivers of gold

pour in my intellect
places, names, things, phrases
I was sure I would forget

I'll synopsize my soul

throw it in a box,
carted off and off

until I'm set on the doorstep
an ogle and a gaze-in
at my what and whatnot

no return address

The sun shone bright
against the clear blue sky
The waves pushed to and fro
making paste from the sand

Seagulls cried to the others ashore
as their shadows shaded my eyes
A cool ocean breeze passed through
oh it feels so grand

I lift my eyes up to the sky as
skin stretches into a smile
I wish to shout but I like it
how I could be here forever

All I can hear is someting that
stands from a mile
A being, no, somebody, no, either way
something kept calling never

It only lingers in my head but
soon I was walking to the body
The water was cold and warm
as it gently licked at my feet

The water was like a friend
inviting me in like I was cloddy
Yet as my toes dug slowly in the sand
my feet walking deeper beneathe

This is very much a situation
I find the ocean to be very funny
And so I laugh
I laugh until my sides hurt

The water is now up to my neck
my body slowly turning gummy
I just stand there
salt clings onto my shirt

The ocean gently rocks me
as it takes me away from the pain
And which I call to life
I will be alright

suffused with
spectral footfall
the promenade
fades into grey
winter stone.

With crumbling
smiles, pierrots
sally in monochrome
frames and the
dead bones of
donkeys rise to
cloddy beaches.

Through salt
burned eyes,
torpid seas
heave like heavy
blankets over rusting
lungs; the pulse
of slow decay.