"before pitchforks and dark borderlines and lit roads and seeds with copyrights"

"I wish I were in Maine. I imagine / hearing Maine in the squeaking ceiling fan / that will continue turning long after I am gone."

What shall I claim besides pockmarked apples, quiet revolt? These flaws could ferment, rot me out.

she confesses to her father between her palms te perdono por abandonarme

Swirling drum circles. Maverick jazz. Witness the discipline. Testimonial connection.