fell is the swoop of my word against yours
autumn, caught 'em
how the rhyme finaled the end
with a swathe of reds, oranges,
tongues of cold wind on our napes,
the music of dead leaves beneath our young feet
the persistence of being earnest
-
Sometimes I swear it is easy to just give up whenever the universe is
sending me signals that it doesn’t care about what I’m trying my best to
accomplish—m...