• Vol. 07
  • Chapter 02
Image by


In the dawn's early light,
the crunch of the milkman's tires
on our gravel driveway.

Glass bottles of milk
wait on our front porch
to catch the gleam of the sun.

That was another world.
We were other people.
Behold, the milkman cometh.

My images dangle from the sky
like cotton candy in a puppet show.
Easy come, easy go.

My possessions stand safe,
in white plastic bottles capped
with bright red homogenized blood.

Verily, I've meat to eat
ye know not of, washed down
with the milk of human kindness.