May we always be faithful to Georgia

I don't need to. Join the.Marching Band.
Ijust. want to. lazily hold your hand.
and scream inside a tunnel.


Blanket sweatscreen, pulled off in harried dream.
Called yourself a writer queen,
and legends told aretrue
and legends told are blue.

Past layers and lovers discovered uncovered were dead.
Dear little barbie dead on their heads
in the graveyard
8 year old nur full of spores and green grass
and moonlight
and fathers lost in the fog
and father found in the desert
and lovers found in the wrinkles of my palms and the creases of my smile