I stole

a poem from your blog and spliced it-- hope you don't mind. I chose this one especially for its opportunity to interject. The poem itself feels conflicted, like it can't make up its mind (especially now with my interjections). While this could be looked as a bad thing, I quite like it. It seems accurate. Check it and wreck it :) I'm such a dork.

astound me. with
sangria-purple. seeding
a presence. in order

to break, to intercise
each layer of fear—
cowering tower. of milk

counted like. cards
fallen from hands
the most. careful story

(yours)(mine):
blown-flat. pile of
moth wings & ash--

stay away. he said
and it isn't even
time for apples. wait for

autumn. brown-out
eyelids flutter.
it isn't night but the hold