snorers
are braggarts
they say to the sleepless
I can even hum a tune
while I do it
- Gary Hunter
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See Allthe 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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look up some evening past the curiosity of night beyond the moon’s stare to the distant stars some that shine brightly here are cold black cinders there love too is a seen glow but how do we know if i
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