Archive for April 4th, 2011
Deflation During Commute
Suburban Warfare.
Dread of painted, cleansed brown box.
Sing bright angst and run.
Streets wave thick daring white flags.
No hope for peace or loving.
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Crusty Good
I come in sadly,
greeting crusty red faces.
One hand shakes firmly.
Crusty good. Am I crusty?
Wondering if God is here.
