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Monthly Archives: August, 2017

THE WAY IT IS

J.W. told me tonight
that Mitch the Chipewa
died two nights ago.
“Over-exposure and drink.
39 years old.” “And he had
a bad ticker,” said Gyzmo’s

The Night

The night had no effect
passing into dusk,
sleep comes abrupt,
detachment
kept from the dreamer.
Weaving without strings

Ghosts

You keep burying it
Deeper
Encased in flimsy
Coffins
Away from the people
That you love

a nest

a nest
of newspapers
in a niche
*
to lay
the head