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Snapshot of Insomnia

Dress your sheep in cotton, baby – dress your wolves in wool. If you think that you heard footsteps, someone’s probably at the door – just waiting for a welcome or some implicit permission – dress your wolves in sheepskin babe and put your sheep in linen.


Monday Afternoons

I am so full of laughter it’s making me hurt as they fill out address bars and the sexy ones flirt with each other and nobody asks me to dance. 73 more words


This Dream I Keep Having

It’s funny – when I die, there is nobody but a paid public servant, shovels dirt and then it’s done. So flat, you know? And it is snowy and he’s lonely but he won’t drop the pretense, which I respect, or I would if I, you know, were not dead – … 25 more words


The Season Ends

It always was fictitious – every sweet and sour instant – some perfumes cloud my vision: I smoke too much and get antsy. And I keep finding my hands need just a little extra company – the gravity is jumping back and forth like camera shutters: I can’t see or feel my stomach. 78 more words


The Universe Next Door

All that you need is a bucket of steam and a good tune to whistle and a chaseable dream and at night you’ll make over-grand plans for a morning that only exists in a catalogue – rattled off, drunkenly schemed up and easy to toss as an empty. 97 more words

Highly Skippable Content

Stainless Steel Cleaner

The unsound are distinguished by a lack of punctuation – or improper use of spaces writing on as their mind races off the track around the world once coming back with more odd placement of a comma and, an absence of a paragraph establishing some order to the jumble – the unsounds’ thoughts must tumble like a handful of loose change thrown into an empty dryer – 16 more words


Something I Might Say Later

If the tides rise tomorrow in their usual ways and the same early bird chirps the start of one more day that is just great with me – just fine! 50 more words