Holler Song
IndiGOgogo
faux PAS, faux PAS
tricker-ee-ee-ee
dirty-dirty-dirty-dirty
hehe-he-heher-AWE
his awful leaving
her-rawher-rawher-raw
The Hours Flower Briefly
The hours flower briefly, every well-spread petal, seconds from a chiefly peaceful death. Minutes mimic themselves most days, with the laze of old bones folding. Green things croak amongst the Crocuses and bulbs. Unbuzz the bees. Seasons pluck the love-mes, doldrums thrum the trees, forget-me-nots. Daily, weekly, on weak knees we dig our plots. Lots of ease in going under, rooting numerous the blooms -- sunken bundles of perfumes mud-caked with wonder.
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