the dogs were in the house and sniffing the last decayed amours of left lasagna; clack and tap the toes, fur stuck out between the friendly pads the entire 5 summer, no other noise, everyone dead or gone, vacationing with cameras to return with a foreign inspiration; 'thank you,' and my thin lips vomit at the grace. To no other sound but the happy clacks 10 and hanging, painted tongues I wrote; I even wrote: 'the flowers nod and peck like too many a sun.' Today: 'the day grows down in dismayed capitulation.'
From the collection "Youth Youth Youth"
Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
More information available on gregglory.com.