Composting

I am putting forth a wide shallowness
tensed loosely to broad subsoil,
grown paranoid to resistance.
I cling and have curled
weak roots to hard ledge,
shoring hope
against impermanence.
[I smile to think what a fool I am.
“Egg rolls is the coolest lunch.”
That was Darby‘s reply to my:
‘mixing memory and desire’

early spring drizzling hungover

slipping on New Hampshire mudshore
the morning after Dan and Beth’s party —
corn snow and soft ice
slowly giving way,
becoming something]

early drizzling hungover spring

I reach for my pen—

Bullshitter.

Wordmixer.

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