A storm
the make-up of the street covered with red arabic gold; lights of the port, dumb sensation of its sirens
screaming in a deep warning voice.
Meanwhile I can see my tea pot
getting hotter as the news suggest that I stay indoors.
The passive voice of a human being has never been so quiet
as nature takes over my cup...
That thing
is never destroyed by a wildfire, as there is no wildfire strong enough to destroy that thing.
it just gives it a crispy skin with tabasco served later --
immediately after there's no beer
available.
It is a Murphy law. A gap between realities. A manifestation of a body
that grows an amputated limb at night and makes...
