Ida Harris

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Love Don'T Live Here No'Mo
She barrelin' thru.
Ain't time for arrangements.
No Jazz funeral, ain't time for time.
Tell Zulu
White Towel
By darkness, I lay. Supine with pupils speed reading, studying. This space, whose air has failed. The quality of life reeks spoil, stale. Still mine enemy lies beside me, wanting. He too belly up, breathing shallow, forcing a tempered pulse, a cool temper and muffled love.


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6/14/2021 1:15:59 AM #