i am inertia
without a single flying
star; i am comet relieved
of thunderstorm desires. i am
hurt in your hurt i am
heat in your cold i am
flying in your rain wind
and fasting in your
thirst.
this will be my last poem
so that i remember. because before melted steel, there was hand-made, better, buttered words. we can decide if new spaces beneath me can qui...
