Wednesday, May 16, 2018

So much can be traced back to a little red wheelbarrow


and physics of the makeshift.  Like memory, fading.  A tad worn.  But a love of dirt, intact.  A line of poetry here or there; the tongue tastes skinny carrots pulled from New Jersey soil.

2 comments:

  1. In the old workroom, his abandoned lamp parts are covered in dust and need a polish. How fun to hide out where he hid out.

    set of wrenches
    rusty top of nail can
    a metric ruler
    2 sets of small hammers
    what looks like a compact, rouge used up, that she must have used before they went out for a ride in the black Packard that kept breaking down

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