i love buttermilk with salt and lowercase letters. i want my oysters raw as my missed connections,
which never arrive
on time. for my slow, southbound syllables, i will not apologize. when i squeeze muscadines between my teeth, they pop wine-wild, rolling deep as porphyry down my throat. i write
and paint and sometimes use
cookies to make blatant my point about restraint. my middle name is one of my best attributes.