Letter Home from Camp

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

My t-shirt smells of rose cannabis and wobble so far
I’ve fallen in love with turtledove, rain-bright leaves, and the pure
leaning empty of locking oneself out of the dorm, walking phoneless
through a fine mist. I will report some appropriate unfurling, some
soft green steadying. Next time, our greeting should be
You are love and please understand my only deficiency is one tight
hip muscle and a constant desire for tomatoes in any form. So
tomorrow maybe sun gazpacho a chewy darkness of lovely hum.

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