for grandmother mist
my jacket smells like solidbackofthroatthwunk so it’s like you’re pulling one right from the plug cork bar accentuate the r like rrroar
–grease. it was the most fun i’ve had since the baltimore highlands, last st. pats
fried mac n chz. the only time to go there is when the vortex opend, past dorchester, down the breezeway, shadow creeps
so after midnite, & we were
it was.
to the fog out the door, she says, eye glean warm front devastating the saturation clog uprootn low land rain, fog. it says, recall: when sepi got married it was lunar beltane. in the morning on the deck in south pas you lay, newly broken priestess n crow shamanized
death. recall fuck you crow the i who used to say this said, & crow who used to say this too
fuck you, you’re already dead
cross-eyes back through the mist. image molecules of my bones waterfall from my breath flow out of and recreate again, again again this rain air rain fall frenzy mist grace between states fog of
grease smell ~
