Poetry | $7
Hand-bound. 44 pp, 6.75 x 9.5 in.
Wrapped letterpress cover
Distribution: Direct Only

from Inspector vs. Evader:

Hello, sunken eyes, how's things in the distance.
As we pass the water fountain, a minor conference disbands.
I wedge myself into the phone booth to change clothes.
Hi, everybody, I hope we can be friends.
I promise I can hold my own in the shadows of the porch light.
I think we just passed the exit.
But it's not really a loss.
More like a conversation at work.
You just sort of get all wadded up.
An intractable nature tangles up with irritation.
Then I got me a perm.
Waxed my scales.
Later it's fine.
No one can explain it.
No one can explain.
Hardly anyone remembers.
The accountant hiding in the tree doesn't know.
There's only so much the head fits around.
I didn't give you the tickets because I could "feel it."
The fantasy of meaning isn't always there.
The phone could never work that way.
Conscientiousness takes so many push-ups.
You'd ask the same questions.
You'd ask to keep your body.
Nobody does.
There was density in brightness.
There was affection in flowers.
Apprehend and then comprehend.
Apprehend and then comprehend.
There was affection and brightness in density.
I don't care what you say.
My haircut is not condescending.
I didn't disrupt your pioneer spirit on purpose.
So what if you woke up in Ohio.
So what if you were born into the wrong brand of politics.
I was born with a football helmet on.