miniatures: 6

a flush in the hand you are holding still enough to compensate for the death that waits due north of this death

your pulse
syncopates—
scag clouds

–

miniatures: 16

taking the chance the thrill the not knowing the him the her the me or any of this dank matter held together by the weak forces that will inevitably cause our decay

twilight—
waiting to be picked up
by the blockchain

–

miniatures: 30

anyway take my trade tiny cop imposter and mute the bond yet smelted warm to the slob touch of a grasshopper

midnight sun—
grooming the coats
of roadkill

Brendan Slater