< Mike Fox
What remains except this scribbling? whipped
feather
Nail marks that still harness back
Broken Glass
store
desire sharper than guillotine
more than I could afford
the red coast, waves his torment
salt
kilograms, liters, kilometers
pain
but not one with which I will step over the railing
and one that will carry on for the world
empty backpack that straightens the back
three words that are prohibited for
mime
in the midst of mime
back all the money for the tickets? yes please
back to summer