love drives home the knife
the shaft straight into your heart
pull the blade you die
Gary Hunter
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See Allwhen Gracie rubs her cheek in dried dog poop I can never tell if it’s Christian Dior or some cheap gaudy knock off don’t know whether...
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dug in with fingernails unable to crawl back to my 50’s losing the rear view of my 40’s looking down I see a murky future straight up...
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these lips would nibble sunlight if not for chicken pot pies or suckle my good memories but for perfectly ripe avocados I’d drink a fresh...
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