UNDER THE BASHO 2022
autumn rain
.getting what
I walked into the room for.
*
crushed moth footprint on the cheap hotel wall
*
after the funeral
a bird
pecking at something i can't see
*
“it’s not a race,” he tells me, and my stroke slows down
(in the distance a mascletá)
*
jacaranda in bloom
three men circle-jerking in a room
*
clothesline shadow of an empty sock swaying, swaying
*
a statue to “Hope”
after the bird flies away
only shit remains
