The Bazaar of Disclosure

If you tell me why you always ring the Hornet hive doorbell / and wait with a spoon thinking it’s a honey hive, thinking / the amber inhabitants will remind you to wipe your feet on the welcome / mat before letting you swallow and scoop honey soup and larvae lava, / I’ll tell you why I stood Swan-Lake-point-toed […]

an ode to the world

the girl with the black rimmed glasses and red leather skirt waves at me. it is a ritual done every friday at approximately nine forty-five in the morning when the children have filled their cubby holes and business men with pinstripe suits have been seated […]