POETRY

There are many meshed and just enough, so in their brittle wakefulness molluscs that lumped. Cancerous behind their voices. Shook their shadows before the slough-off began in earnest. Rolling out horsedark, heat with too much mouthing as to breed thin annihilates the rest of our habit-retition. Bodies that tick and ...

Take a walk off a short pier.Why don’t youTake a running leap off the dockWell the short sharp shockWon’t kill you.If you shoot first ask laterIn a while, alligatorYou learn toExcise cliché, leave only raw meaningSkinned redStripped of its significationAnd therefore worthless.

I’m 19 and it’s mid-afternoon on a Sunday. Or maybe it’s 8pm. I have to be the storyteller now. Make love out of history. THE LOVE YOU WANT SO BADLY IS ALREADY WITHINYOU. YOU ARE IT. YOU HAVE BEEN IT SINCE YOUWERE BORN. YOUR MOM SAID, “WHEN I HAD YOU, ...

Gesticulating ginger roots to knuckle-bones in rivers scrapedof solitude sallow and sinkingfeeling sends moonshine minglingflexing her fingers in jugscharcoal chisels sentience into itchyrays peddling pith and prowesspressing spoons to fluttering lidsladen with lentils and mildewsatiating the supplicant snail

instead florida palms and pines,home sits in grid-rows of asphalt shingles and gleaming canals,no grand mountains, no ancient valleys.home is young and foreign––like me, sometimes,who was born on this soil but sidelined to kick the dirt.i dug for roots and found only earthworms,i buried acorns and no great oaks emerged,not ...

These smithereens I – our little segmentations, clearly visible, emerges as human bodies, as the mood to fill your apartment with liquid and enjoy the city straightjacket-ed (our apparatus of production), which can only swift over dissilence narrowest at the shy white nothingness, some morphogenesis of k-drips mustering glassed perceptions ...

It’s been three months since you left,and I’m lying on my back in thegrass, picturing your crag-toothed slot-canyon grin, mybody pouring into the coldempty sky and wistfullywarming some far-away world. As the frost slinks across mybones, I am circumcised. My well-worn voicetears at the night, fingers scrapingacross the star-brightsky. But ...

Ambition walked the underworld hand-in-hand with obsession, and he was the brightest in his class. It was that bleak October morning, sun hidden behind the clouds, pewter gloom cast over the dining hall. Unruly uniformed students, then stillness. He saw her. Translucent, almost, and alone. Her head twisted as she ...

It’s not my hand raising your direction to some point I can’t quite describe. Just the threads. These methods, she argues, cracks its eyes towards me and all over right angles. A presynaptic mechanism deepens the entire width of your floor. Limbs grow much faster. And I hisses in rushes ...

Broken water always meant more babies, right?It’s stalling and we’re nowhere near…Jesus Christ, there’s no time for this on the freeway.The fathers of some really lucky sons watch fountains spill over as good book people congregate.It’s the tortoise and the bulldog crashing together.And it’s the longest shot on the smallest ...