I fall into easy habits of browsing Substack, blogging, curating images; hours go by this way. It's just like an interminable session in the doctor's waiting room, in which all the magazines have been read over twice. We all are waiting for the Midterms, or Krasnov's cheeseburgers to clog his heart, or some other deus ex machina we don't really believe in. Stories would lead us to dream that six months from now all the Blue Meanies will be overthrown. By what, i ask. By more severe consequences.
"dinkum Hakenkreuz"
strands of realer things
but why give them the say-so
flavors flowing earthward
reflections of glass towers
the story sternly spurned
strands of realer things
far from the tall tumult
skeletons of gaunt grief
but why give them the say-so
why among fluorescents
& intangible ballast
flavors flowing earthward
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