My friend tells me that he can’t put his thoughts onto watchamacallit
I tell him no one can:
there are chasms between it-spit-and-script
we die trying to close, hands outstretched like…like…um….
WATCHAMACALLIT, a poem
My friend tells me that he can’t put his thoughts onto watchamacallit
I tell him no one can:
there are chasms between it-spit-and-script
we die trying to close, hands outstretched like…like…um….