45*21

the nights tingled in the harbor
it was like angelic sorbet
I looked at her lips and cursed
how could her teeth be in my soup
the shit was pure black in the early morning light
she laced my boots and slayed them gently on the caftan
I burped in a one armed manner and picked up the glass
through it you could see every star if not corrupted
notion of buy and sell delivery service
the TV goes off on its own now
there is only one station and it is universal
though people like to space believing they can telescope
some meaning between thought, lips and mouth
I got so many teeth unsure of their position
time to see a chiropractor... this dog has kennel cough
I rubbed some ointment on the leathery tongue
and watched myself removed from sanity
from the only vantage point I know
up in the old hotel
where you can ice fish from the third story window
there is a kind of yellow that makes you think of eggs
and you are not alone