the dozen zucchini lined up on the counter like placid troops with the onions, their minions
let men with gold teeth bow to my tits and the blisters on my feet I become electric
In the end a yellow cloud. Nemfrog. 2020.
the way time speeds up as if it hasn’t guessed the destination—
riveted to the secret of birds caught up inside his fist
A train tears through a car like an animal
Holy the sea holy the desert holy the railroad holy
What reaches him except disaster?
To get inside the restaurant you have to step over some1 sleeping on the sidewalk. Nemfrog. 2019.
Jane Ran. Nemfrog. 2019.
Why bother where I went ? for I went spinning
The furniture call back their atoms. The tree asks for its leaves.
Instead of sleeping I’m doing this. Nemfrog.