I used to be a writer

Piano fingers, are lobster claws. A lazy cell evolves. in reverse. Paintbrushes collecting dust slump in tin cups brown strips of rust Camera lenses giving me the eye wondering why I won’t pick up the pen and paper. or at least try. what is a feeling. internal hallucination of a sensation None of it is…

Dirt Pudding

Pigmented scents of leather flowers fly by fauna from afar Brownie soil and velvet violets draft a woodland memoir. Doe deer dance with leaping locusts, Moss proposes to the twine, Swooning loons sing sultry serenade Moonlight drips onto shoreline A sour sun once shriveled raisins as it grew drunk from cypress sap. Now Dionysus holds the…