one good line a day.

my baby collects old coca cola glasses

i’ve stabbed these horns into my skull to the hilt.

he bought socks.

the keel, knifing the marina.

is there some blood-memory longing to leave, even if by sea?

the ice cream sandwich plan.

one lone trawler sets in at sunset

eroding your cliffs of indifference, my turmoil of breakers

the sea was up in arms with whitecaps

her bravado of distance