photo, not potato. play dough, not plato. nor plateau.

http://community.webshots.com/user/shannonradcliffe

my in/outsides are having a panic picnic. alone in the apartamento. with no way to meet (these) shaking hands. (or hers)

sub umbra floreo (i flourish in the shade)

i've-heard-you-
articulate and communicate
through the articular surfaces of your bones,
while your irregular cardiovascular
skips-two beats.two beats. maybe 3 three
(like skipping stones)

and i believe your heart meets with a slower beat
than most/
for it contains
more heat than friction between feet and street
on the west coast/
a july
after-

ink me, drink me,
yellow castle on a hill.
your mound is green
but your trees are bare.
sink me, link me,
(yellow castle on a hill)

corn tops can dance; mold into
lakes, here. and the ponds,
never taught to cry here
sit helpless and abandoned. sipped from;
waiting to dry\ up, no. i do not wish to be
w[here] dreams and sweat are more familiar. another way (for me) to cry\ hear, no.

there's a family of eight living in my lungs.

if i could hide in the woods

i've got a case of the crispy crunchies.
october has more [life and death] than other months.