I haven't written anything on this blog lately, but that doesn't necessarily mean I'm dead. I am recovering from stomach flu, however, which is the next best thing. I was at least going to show you another one of my canadian rabbits before I crawl back into bed, but Bloogle won't allow it today, for some reason. So how about a found poem instead?
“We sight cast to tailing reds
a 25-inch west-side
caught on a popper. Waters
support double digit days,
vast unpressured flats,
thick seagrass meadows.”
A woman with tattoos
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She leaned over a faucet to pour water in a vase, the woman dressed in gray
blue scrubs, a thin screen of ehu hair falling over her glasses. I asked if
...
6 days ago
