Flea Market
Lost on the backroads
outside of Linn, Missouri,
looking for a flea-
market my GPS is
saying is out here, somewhere.
x/y
A bedroom full of
ceramic Buddhas, smiling
from every shelf,
surface and corner in the
room at one central x/y.
Waiting to Release
Late April again
and all day the air has been
heavy and slow with
weather, waiting to release
everything it’s been holding
in for the last several weeks.
Acute Phantom Life Syndrome:
the deep feeling or
sensation that you’re missing
something that either
died in the womb or never
existed in the first place.
Getting off the Ground
Hell,
at
that age,
you’re mostly
still dealing with each
other’s avatars and public
relations agents, anyway, with always the hope,
of course, that the real thing peaks through, here and
there, until the masks and shields and deflectors
are no longer needed, that is if the whole damn thing
is structurally sound enough
to support itself
under the
stress of
its
own
weight,
let
alone
get off the
ground and keep it there.
Beautiful work! Thank you!
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