by Dint of kilt

hard-runged belted suppositional

perfume

a Range in newtons

pretty Penumbral no

thickets thick

with shell & clover all over

i am not talking about the sand

are not Wanting to not sit in the window

watching quintain

i wore a slouch

i Hear fine

i misheard the gestural soliloquy

i miss

nothing

i miss

the good news & the Other news

to the

blank to the Rich

stairway

lasso

i had Enough of my world

to pass Around

the party

the Handsome

had some

& then some

bovarian cancer

you don’t write This i do

the animal follows the sound

he told me what Happened

what hurt

he had a new name

when he got up

he had Played some

& then some

to Kill a

a empire

a defense of

her English

how i am

same Gain

as my master

squinting russet

the bear would Clock him

elevator gaited

she Approached