where the writers are
cheap motel rooms

Shadow Hobbies

 

 

Somebody signing the motel registry

left-handed, someone

else pretending to be my dad or brother. The vodka

from my father's boot

in the pocket of my jeans jacket.

 

 

Kneeling, a new kind of cardboard angel.

Bending, and falling

out of windows.

 

 

Here's where the rupture in my ear

holes started, God's dead music:

a piano playing underwater.

Comments
4 Comment count
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Brutally effective Christine.

Brutally effective Christine. m

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Thanks!  I cut a lot, so I'm

Thanks!  I cut a lot, so I'm glad it still made sense.

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Really.

If I had that hammer...

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You'd hammer in the morning?

You'd hammer in the morning?