Ripped from the
Headlines
This past few nights, as
inelegant as they have
been, TRUST. Four
ugly gashes in the
head of condescension.
Dry as a cactus or bones
(I keep losing my pen.
I’ve been right here
for hours.).... So
I was fairly religious
as a kid. [The dog
in my head. The
neighbors lean over
a new word.] In
place of photo
identification I am
just plain fucked up.
