A chess game ends in a park where I begin to regret my choices. Gotten but for this metal in my mouth. “Love is an act of not knowing,” I think as I fight this city. Where would I rather be? No place I’d rather be. I would rather be a place. No place. To the screams of the man on the street that lasted all Sunday: I can never not hear you. This too may be love.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
-
I want to make my attention visible I want to make my attention clean My lore is obviously balletic My lore is obviously dharmic I want to b... -
Postmodern/Pedestrian: - external causes - ends-based, purpose of a movement is to accomplish a goal- - measured by numbers arbitrarily (cou...
-
You knew just what I was there for You heard me saying a prayer for Someone I really could care for. When I love you it’s like invisibility...
No comments:
Post a Comment