queer clockwork

Low down love letter

Here is another Artist Trading Card that we gave away this year. More to come from the series.

This year, we gave away a bunch of Artist Trading Cards as gifts. Here is one card from that series.

The rain pitters away on their window.
Swirling. Clutching. Salivating.
The rain patters down our roof.
I drop a drip of spit on to the carpet.
A small pool of forms.
I dip my big toe in.
My sock sticks out its tongue.
Laps up the moisture.
Saturated, I become uncomfortable.
Pulling. Grabbing. Ripping.
My sock is thrown across the room.
I pick up debris as I walk barefoot around the house.
Gritty, I become uncomfortable.
Meetings on Mondays make the weekend die in strange ways.

The innards of various apartments exploded into the street after numerous leases expired. The causalities were great among the particle board people.

A protest against a toilet entering into a neighborhood park broke out into a bloody battle of porcelain.

A beach towel, disoriented by the land, lays down in the grass, feeding on the sidewalk. Adoption is hopeful.

Some rubber tire shards crossing the interstate back to their native grass lands.

Various assortments of garbage bags huddled together a top of a dumpster structure to keep warm throughout the night.

A plastic fast food soda drink top with attached straw tyring to make its way back to the mighty banks of the Wabash.

A Budweiser can making a nest among yard debris.