While some of you may be needing fans and as few clothes as possible to survive the summer heat, here in SF we are experiencing our classic summer weather: the fog rolling in over twin peaks.
You might even need a muff. And so, here's a poem.
Muffmostly urgent escarpment
breathy water & catching, lipped
feathers fabricing soft and catchy
open hands and mouthunder, sub-, sub-marine brine brisktriangulo you vet my tribler's virtuehelp call down its wolf's-baneultimofisticuffs if cunctatory could be curatorialand under certain circs frippery a fortresssweet, insouciant, disburdenedlashes aplentyfashion's body is voluminous, strapped yreustachian tubes are pleasuring me
agile auditory & someday next
a barbed whirled might unfoundered be_RTM