summer with a broken mannequin arm / cross-sections of diseased hearts
let's help
we need a stretcher: according to biography
simply, w/ laconic
technicolor; how moody the passion
drums & saxophones
explode over a slide guitar riff
as seagulls collide
defiantly
this is where he took to calling his heart
the chelsea piers...
after all this positivity we need
tea plants,
gasoline & the soothing grey consolation
of a lee friedlander
*
a warm forest floor in the fever of rerouted
perspectives—
his griefs were a semaphore's
landscape...
rurally sad subourbon whiskey; there's a cleverness to
a yardstick in a corner:
a perdured prescription for lorazepam
or a pretty brunette
in brooklyn dancing under a sleepy chandelier;
basal anesthetics
often compelling mosaics
when my fever was the objective correlative of her love for me
"no one is answering their phone"
