September 26, 2018

soul captured through lens
I prefer to keep it there
untouched by midnights

August 20, 2018

paint peels the front door
midwest mountains fool no one
at petrol station stops

at first harvest
no one is selling knives
hot whiskey barters

the pain of echoes
dawns an imagined silence
I look for my rock

a warm wind’s regret
seventeen attempts to leave
the gloss on her lips

concrete steals towers
we have never been modern
under surveillance

it’s a visual voice
the death of photography
this could be payback