Casual Things
the plane floats by
one hundred
miles
away
maybe one thousand
who knows?
Clarity
the sun glowing
christ white
like a new syringe
we walk thru
the park swan drunk
on chi rho powder
plastered spread
legged
to the victory rose
which dips so ill
into sea-blood
No Telephone in Heaven
to suffer
tiny
places
&
hide it
where is
life
? taken
thru
the skin
Relative Valentine
space is curved
is love?
we arrive back
at the start
four years later
PR Primeau is the editor of Persistencia Press. He lives in Rhode Island.