The grace, laughing,
At a lunch counter.
The 'it' feeling
Immobilizes everything outside that halted
"Please, turn around."
The slake draws across everybody, and everybody
Just keeps thinking.
Be gone, be gone.
A prism started in the dark with a single color.
You know, when I think of your neck when you dance I see
The flightless vines strangling one another
In the garden.
Name That Trauma :: Reader Tim B. on Clowns Under Siege & a Prison Plunger - 1. In my grandparents’ basement in the late-’80s, I watched the end of a movie where two men, one wearing a horrifying clown costume, are holed up in an ol...
16 hours ago