I Feel Rocks
by Joseph Goosey
I throw poems into the section of our mouths
that seems limiting.
If we lose one another in the vast consumerism of the grass—
I’ll see you outside the giant gall-stone.
We once froze together on a February porch
and I said to you—
I feel so many rocks against the borders
—so you offered me some gouda
and everything red rushed
to the edge of my jeans.
