it's not that I wait for you/it's that/my arms are doors I cannot close.

"you are an electric chair disguised as a la-z-boy recliner
and I find comfort in you

my clear bones take shape in the mouth of glassblower with asthma
for there is no perfection in me
but maybe clarity.

crush me with the satisfaction of your black misted, unclocked breath.
I always come back to the secrets and wonder of your breath.
It is something for sparrows to wander in."

This week is Derrick Brown week. Excerpts from his poem "Pussycat Interstellar Naked Hotrod Mofo Ladybug Lustblaster!"

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