fictions of the interlude (day 156)

(pi-slices on tumblr)

Red piano.

"o flea! whatever you do
all that remains
blows with wild piercing voice
of the autumn breeze"

--@poem_exe

The sound of penguin feet.

from these tombs
emerge tarnished
the boards warped
withered the trail
dragonfly pan
turquoise pool

words vanish
by stark veto
enough that
not lost knowledge
dragonfly pan
turquoise pool

some high whirr
for the harsh stroll
i write this
ruing the burn
dragonfly pan
turquoise pool

"It’s been difficult for me to write anything these days that isn’t prefaced with how difficult it is to do much of anything but survive during the final death throes of America as we know it."

"the silent crowd
in mist "

--@poem_exe

(@svenbirkerts)