Don’t worry.
We have armies
of showrunners

No lie!
Need input!
Not ghosting you!

Let Scott equal “I.”

Scott says, “I
asked my team
to pull your records.”

Unlikely, 
the homelife
of water

We wanted to tell someone everything

(or everyone something)—

how large and limp

the leaves were

in the half-sun,

but what is “half-sun,”

finally?

More than a fistful
of stubby green fingers
pushing up through gravel.

With us, it’s about
choices.
How many kinds

These X rays prove what we probably knew, my lady,
my love. Namely, the heart is a muscle for pumping blood,

The old guitar with its broken neck, bowled over
by the cat, we said. Six tangled strings,

Because of your own natural sense of death,
death's stench in the fur, in the follicles, sweat glands,