we are all aslant. off-center.
awry: our stomachs, off. they
pitch agitation from being
apart. from missing the Bald Man.
and so when we shit, we shit rivers.
my nose is chafed. my breath is dark and foul and
wrong. still, we remember ourselves enough.
to check the shed. to smell
the spots. to taste the ball and
to think it good.
TAGS: Ball | DailyRothko | Dogs