what hope in this pen and an ink
nearly invisible
earlier the morning sun on
the trees made me think of
large mammals and their humid scent
in the sun in the grass
the countable galaxies of
bright dew and now the chair
makes sarcastic music of my
musing but the night is
still and so wide without a moon
Tag Archives: scent
scent of ripe apples when I would practice how to fly
how can we trust it now that the metal
has started to pit and the scent it gives
off reminds us of too long afternoons in
a damp basement bleeding where we wasted our
but believe me I have nothing against
the trend of suicide by nostalgia
just know that yes I need a couple more minutes
unless you know what you’re having
time squeezing us like badly-made boots
and all the months you talk about talking
but I never see this I you keep bringing up
the scent of wood fires in fog I start the day
the scent of old books
overpacked
for the afterlife
fallen leaf scent of unsipped whisky
orange sky the scent of spices through the door
other animals 