My spare bedroom holds
many possibilities
under all that junk.
Clean sweep
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My spare bedroom holds
many possibilities
under all that junk.
I burn candles and
incense. Maintain silence. Find
myself in nothing.
Soldiers wear helmets.
Women wear makeup, styled hair.
Our mode of defense.
Making travel plans,
like getting dressed for a date,
is a leap of faith.
Sad orphans ripped from
the forest stretch out their limbs
pleading, ‘Take *me* home.”
Like speed dating, if
they make a good impression,
they come home with us.
TV’s “Fisherman
and His Wife” story for our
times. Unalloyed greed.
Viriconium,
Gormenghast, Majipoor. Dark
journeys. Twisted dreams.
On weigh-in day I’d
inhale helium if it
would make me lighter.
She’d buy Free People,
match and mismatch carelessly,
revel in oddball.