In June I'll change my tune
I slept nine or ten hours in the windowless pit of the guest room and woke to the news from
selkie about Sandy Irvine's boot. "I mean, dude . . . there's a label on it."
(I wrote a poem once out of a dream in which the photographer of a touring theater company in Faerie was George Mallory, still using the camera he had died carrying, which has not yet floated up out of the ice.)
(I wrote a poem once out of a dream in which the photographer of a touring theater company in Faerie was George Mallory, still using the camera he had died carrying, which has not yet floated up out of the ice.)

no subject
Remains are impersonal. People have feet.
*hugs*