My short-lived joy ends,
when the cinema closes
and Superman wins.
The Kiosk is shut.
My hot dog is digesting.
The cola is gone.
A second joy lives
on in perennial ways.
The deep joy of God.
Here, invisible pollen is scratchy. Tissue strips around my nose are affected. I walk the dog in histamine’s shadow. By fields that are...
I will return to the Stockholm ship and do my bit to protect it (and I will recall that I emit 75 watts of body heat). I will keep in...
Chuckling at your double refraction of light, I admire your rhombohedral habit. Your clothes. Your scarlet red spanks. Like the inner...
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