Poems from pauldef
There is a smell that gets the machinery whirring,
one like candy, sex, or soft, glittering lights
minimalist piano with a few rough...
If poets are subtle then I’m no poet.
This poem is a cubic box
into which I stuff and cram weighty words
and a collage of rallying cries...
They say love.
Schrodinger’s cat sneers on the windowsill
as I measure with careful nonchalance
wondering if the rust is a...