A terrible sentence:
The workers sing to themselves
And I want to cry.
This is how
The bracelet is made:
Whiskey, an old skateboard,
And the glue of experience.
I have a heart,
It attacks me every day:
Filling with rain
And crackling with a wildfire.
Elvis is dead
But I am still alive:
Summoning dumb poems
In the misty morning time.