We are a black tear running down a stubbled cheek.
We are clouds over bats at dusk in high deserts.
Our homeless burn secrets into graphite thrones.
Our containers reek of gasoline.
Portland stirs while we hook trout.
Portland delivers cubism.
Our Portland properties glow iguana suicide.
Our Portland fingers stretch in hospital sleep.
We crave a solution no matter how wicked.
We shoplift gadget bazaars like Nigerian anus brokers.
We drain the battery of Detroit.
We clear caches and inhabit fire-lit caverns.
Our shadows soak brick walls.
Our blood is jealous of meandering gutter flows.
Our beautiful drought is the attitude of glory.
Abstract chess holding dark kelp.
Abstract chess will feel like getting fat she says.
Our arms stretch for miles in the bathysphere joy.
Our legs caressed by Negroes in a jacuzzi.
Portland stirs while we hook trout.
Portland delivers cubism.
We rove alleys with serpentine elegance.
We paint Q on the servers a scarred octahedron.
We gentle think of suicide canals.
Our hypnotized ancestors burning violins.
Our Moscow trim flexing nude on stones.
Our ambivalent graffiti.
We are a black bear running down a stumpy creek.
We are clouds over bats at dusk.
We are sizzling over the palette.
We are 4.9 on the Oak Creek scale.
Portland stirs while we hook trout.
Portland delivers cubism.
Our needs are not met.
Our signal is analog.
Our memories are thorny.
We are.