yeah
you're not there
but you are
tiny radicalism
in my hand
like all the mites
and maybes
crawling through
trans a-formation
fusion canal
at 4.am.
fogs and fairies
sipping sprites for
caffeine free
anonymity
tiny radicalism
hunched over bones
and dusty visors
that only see
vertical martini,
olive branches,
and the man-tra
verses:
peace and
riot
