Umbriate Press Poetry

There is a man who stumbled out of the womb and into a bottle thick with choice.

“I need a six pack of happiness, of sleep long and deep, of love and Will sweeter than the sweetest wine.”

Fluid thoughts such as these begged him to speak of other things, things solid and hard, things that cannot be gulped down with wisdom lacking destinies without headaches and cramps dulling the map of mind.

I lay down with him as I am he and decide to taste water before this person of me dies in a pool of mind sugared with remembrance and dust of bread.