30.10.14 - 2:13 p.m.

walnuts blacken my foot bottoms because
i refuse to wear shoes. they are green, perfect
spheres that stain when opened, when given air
you can watch them grow dark, your fingers brown
where you inserted them into the meat. we have
not talked this week. i have been mad. flowers left
and tonal contrition are as lost on me as everything
else. amelia on an atoll, crude tools and extrapolation
don't tell your story. you were in the sky and then
you weren't, nothing more.

Amelia on an atoll
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the project museum

the revolution will be catalogued

this american life

the library of congress

i used to believe







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