My Jacket Is Full Of Birds The jacket is enormous. Not big. Enormous. The sleeves go past my hands. The bottom hangs to my knees. When I zip it up I look like a walking sleeping bag. Which is the point. I wanted to disappear into it.
There's Nothing There I Need More Than I Need to Not Be Zip-Tied And Tossed In A Van Drop the bomb, drop the bomb.
Finally, We Have So Much to Tell You But what if anthropomorphism is just another word for recognition?