invisible
the deepest straight line
from me to you
voices never extinguish
bright vivid inks
obstruct a slow, dotted cart
count the seasons
he speaks with one-dollar jaw
in shoehorned sentences
truckload of paint
on trashed sidelines
his art squirms
it was a mean kiss
the kind that says
i don’t love you
by mary ann blinkhorn
mypenandme 