shorty
night poem write bed
talk radio in a plastic bag keeps raccoons away miss them now npm napowrimo
after nap, walking “dadú, hold hand” crow caws, boy answers head turned left npm napowrimo
the unwashed dishes, two or three days high the garden, neglected, knee-high weeds not two, he already knows a hundred songs what kind of life awaits him? npm napowrimo
he pays the bills. he sings the boy to sleep. he hears the dishes being washed. he knows it’s spring. he settles. he remembers feeling satisfied. npm napowrimo