originally published in Verse
We have 3 large organic free-range dreams and you say take me, the way you objectifycinnamon spinning in a glass ofwater, we core and dice the baby. No baby, the core of listening and curry. Afterwards we add 1 teaspoon and strip to the less of books, we erase, tastes of whitening cream. Your hands draw your unbuttoned blouse, clear lips. And it is there, 3/4 cups of organic my god is a vegan army awareness sports team. We extract 1 pan, if you prefer vanilla, hip talks without text, spice handguns, I blush, a red scarf as you.
matt peven on guitar
jillian mukavetz, fiddle, photography, poem