The State of Affairs in this small carroll town on an up down crouched street in a wood-boxed backyard you'll find four pumpkins my children spent hours stabbing & styling up for fun they once sat side-by-side on the front porch for weeks with a burning feeling inside of them but now that the ghosts have been traded for the gobbles the welcoming crew have been cast out into a pile of warm compost they are all slowly becoming disgusting their slanted eyes eroding their demon brows browning their frightful mouths mushing love left long ago & that rise & fall fluttering feeling is just the pitchfork turning the pile soon the hackberry leaves will fall & cover it all long life desires... breaking down reality we are all just pumpkins -Victor Clevenger