( via / via )

The Death of Bowie Gizzardsbane.

"Krasnov's tweets"

burning playground blues
reading outdoors
the cough drop crunching
mission should you decide

injured don't know when
pale dawn sky scoured
with thrist-whirring thoughts
nothing plain as a plan

in my mirror cars dark
headlights blazing under the glare
of golden-girt cacophony

among those who know

Tiptoe.

"alien atmosphere
in the tennis courts
my house, set apart"

--@poemexe.com

"Wouldn’t that be the strangest ghost story of all? That there was a ghost but you never discovered that a ghost is what it was?"