your senses
like barn-weary horses
sometimes need to stretch
in a fresh wind and take you
on a ride through fresh pasture
and free the rest of your life
to flow and whip
through your hair
- Gary Hunter
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See Allsnorers are braggarts they say to the sleepless I can even hum a tune while I do it
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the squeal of rubber rips the silence as a fast driver carves up the invisible night with an extended tortured note and skid marks when it stops I close my eyes wait for crickets to serenade the darkn
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walking out my front door I’m assaulted by the awful stink of thousands of mango blossoms but oh what a miracle when they morph into handfuls then armfuls of ambrosia as if a hangover could turn into
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