Album: 12/Desk

Exam rooms are good places to write bad poems.

They are quiet,

endlessly regular.

Like staring into a crystal or a forest.



Album: 11/Prediction

After the dog scratched (screeching) his (historians) ears all night (nightmarish), I should be up to the line of my words.

But the computer wants to write outstretched whenever I write out.

I guess I could turn this off, but it wants me to write counterrevolution, thirty-fourth, officially, buttermilk.