-
Ode to A(utomatic) Door
Press your ear firmly against these waves,and hear a miracle you fail to see on busy days.This magnificent creation of man,requires for opening neither hand!'Tis automatic doors I speak of!'Tis ...
-
Hide from the Artificial Sun
These butterfly wings have razor edges,cutting through my stomach wallsas if they were hedges.Trimming this garden of mine oh-so-neat,for must I not look glorious in defeat?Since defeats my displays a
-
Inside Your Head Is Spring
Inside your head isspringinfinite seeds roots shoots flowers bushes treesup- upward to your sunspringBut outside your head isnot springonly snow andicelice my liceOpen not your mouthto let in this col