Thomas Fink


Chordless moan. Boatless sound. Bewildered by your 
adopted planet? As though paranormal 
pirates glide through 
walls. Misty pundit moping under oak. Cordless 
drone. Face dismissed? Manifest identity—
declining to mask. 
“I don’t wanna pay if it ain’t 

necessary.” A swelling resolve to 
venture forth. Lets 
death enjoy traction. Longer. Is 6 feet 
of air enough? “These are 
only estimates. Assumption 

of responsibility would be irresponsible.” You seek 
discipline to be spontaneous—and 
contained. Who will

 be there to greet us?
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Blogger Unknown said...

Loved being bewildered with you, caught in the cross hairs as "paranormal pirates glide through walls." Charles Borkhuis

7:08 AM  

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