gratia artis

Last Thoughts On A Rush Hour L-Train


slip a miracle under the gutter, corner of
12th and broadway its like clockwork
i tell ya, this whole decimation thing.

to think anyone could bear this.
way down a ravine way down —
a pitched space, express train, maybe

explosives dressed as a birthday
clown at a school for people
who have day jobs kaboom.

if you kill a girl, you
have to wear her skin;
if you love her, she gifts it, clockwork.

ruminate on tunnels or the fact
that you could blow up right now, lost
track of stops, or this think about

this: think beyond miraculous, think if you
could catch anyone’s teeth ricocheted
from some dumb bomb, whose would it

i have a final portfolio due this week, i’ve been revising old work from this semester and thats why i’ve not been posting anything. come summer, something good will be coming,

being bound no less