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lyrics

Is are the cardinals captured in two-forty pixels,
blurred by the falling snow in the middle
of March, over which there comes
immense fawning and adoration
the red in all that white

Is sinks its teeth into a peach in Chile,
juice running down to its chin
its eyes close and it exhales
nasally, heaving
the joy of all that sweetness
nasally living
nasally being

Is had been driving to work and back
under late and early winter's
moonlight, then hunched,
napping over
Dostoevsky,
newly wine-beaten

(an unforgiving atmosphere
passed through with
good resolve.)


The red in all that sweetness
The fruit adorned with frost
winter’s only parting
her wide smile
cracked with salt

credits

from The Most Private Songs I Can Sing, released January 4, 2018

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Cocoba New Jersey

A Real Tryer.

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