48.1 - Winter 2019

Page 105


The Stripe of Trees My feelings are beige. Awestruck coins of layered glamour. I’ve underproduced my life in a way I hope you can appreciate. I’ve created this series of misnomers for you. Pad of not, my ulterior neat. The air and not-air of it all. I like it best when we think of nothing. When knobs of bread freeze some youth. Here’s to one final drunk autumn and afterwards, the healing.

96 | PHOEBE 48.1

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