old-style plentiful

Rivers kind of poured over where

we had been sitting, and the breeze made as though

not to notice any unkindness, the light

too pretended nothing was wrong, or that

it was all going to be OK some day.

And yes, we were drunk on love.

That sure was some summer.

concentrate and ask again

You shouldn't look at me like that. Like one of those saints

on whom the birds once settled freely.

-

my two favorite lines right now. carl phillips really knows how to torture me with all this saint talk, all his talking-to-me talk...it's creepy. someone buy me a magic eight ball. please? it's probably the only form of advice i would actually trust right now. 

break my heart i'll drive to arizona

this is where you can stalk me, miss me, live vicariously through me, think about how much you hate me, and most importantly, read about my life trying to write poems in the desert for however long i can keep this up