The coming of spring is insidious and cruel.
The mist pervades my throat as it melted the crystal
my voice was. I am weak, and I much preferred
the hard agreement of our truce of gauntlets.
Marilyn Hacker, “The Song of Líadan”
Image: Peter Lister, “Rainbows: March”
“E’ry knee bends when the engineer cue his stems
Wax nostalgic ’bout future events
Unlawful possession of financial instruments
Frowny Face
Made haste to vacate the place
The ride smelled like wedding cake
Steeplechase
She pressed gas, I pumped the brakes
Sheepish face
How bad you wanna know, like a box of unmarked VHS tapes (How bad?)
In your Dad’s storage space nobody knew about
‘Til he passed, they called, the payment was late
The rust flaked off when you raised the gate
“Toodle-oo.”
“Goodbye Mr. Wolf.”
“Toodle-oo.”“
billy woods | “toothy”
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