words are not
by al ann kifolo
the cloud looks like a
sand, which you tell me is a
substitute everything
i said. a thesaurus is
another way to crawl
on your knees. i am
hungry. i try to be
good. it makes no sense
for any thing
to be. where do i
end? it all:
a means to
al ann kifolo is a grumpy poet, virtually unmoored. they play with words, light, and chronic angst. find them in Honey Fair Magazine, The Third Bullshit Anthology, and unfortunately on Instagram @noone.myself.