


opportunistic
robin plays bath splashing in
puddles of fresh rain
a diary of words, paper and other ephemeral things



opportunistic
robin plays bath splashing in
puddles of fresh rain
AI trained on human souls
yet their words taste like
pink plastic left
in the sun too long
I’d like to think I can tell
when words don’t have a body
like scraping the knee
on the playground asphalt
or bumping the funny bone
or drinking water underneath
scorching sun
