[instead of my blessings missing] by Donald Dunbar

instead of my blessings missing all over in the little street. advent of italic script, the message is positive. shuffling by, doing a very few certain wonderful: write me twenty words, and then another ten. likenesses in the how we were feeling about the birds. maybe they'll glue things together for a little while before the shorter paths for one's basic amusement a life-like veal parm. one has to really smell one's self, if one is to know about that, underneath industrial magnets and underneath the floor where you lived greeting the mice and grunting. meaning hue and meaning zero times where we, you please come here, you pretend the zero, pretending and/or yowling in place of regarding the matters etc.

my slow bright life.

from greeting cards and vultures, helping hands. from waste and relaxation, the difference between feeling young and dying young. so i flip a dime and

we fly a kite on sunday morning the weather systems meet us, my place and yours, arranging all the names into categories,

and here and there you make them addictive yes i will awake into the cold and exploded winter morning. yes glass will cut me but then i will heal. of course. punishing the such-and-such.