untitled

justin mcelfresh

w/in the opera curtains
of yr heart
brandishing matchbooks & accelerants
such atavistic
impulses
this is getting considerably daft
2nd ave.
some chance fotos
of you
& so on 'til we lose focus
debriefing
each other on the finer points of knife-fights
& haiku
so don't take this too seriously
please?
running sideways into sunny triangles
remember
storm-cloud gin & clunky
tulips whilst
driving a firetruck through my aorta
the appearance is
disquieting
as a windowpane strewn w/blood
as we make love
reminiscent of ottava rima & minimalistic
treble clef stet
what i'm trying to articulate
is equinoctial
is that i want you to break my heart


justin mcelfresh was (ostensibly) caught hanging fire outside the barricade of a semicolon soldering a quiet sunday afternoon to some previous clause; he has come to the conclusion that 'biography' is a filing cabinet in arrears. that being established, the author is ensconced in oakland, california considering the bank shot of this miniature story. he is having a bully day. are you having a bully day?