wrote this at the library drowsed on cough syrup cutting bits of folks' sentences seated in a tilted chair and I know it's never very good

Ibidem

At a party we're all fired
wind up slanting never the apse two-
toned lynch-it-up optimism, and
terrible fear. Are the paints
dry, when we die it's over, and then
there's mints plain old shame can
a care, keep keeping me, slanted.

Offshore there can't ever be. Info
into the white white crass of clementines
in memory, safe or soot hike you
white elephant,
chart. Currency costs, crests, oxford knot
care to join me?

Slated till up on down, deck's all
crows, find, we'll do better in the ice,
simply, have a minute?, really just
thirty seconds.

A visual: the shirt can't, leaning toward
Chinese, slope drop pen, brown
paper bag don't know if there's
color, folded, to give you a sense.

[lopped this off at the library]

So many pages of notebooks. Neat,
what she did. To be born.