Nothing was colder or bluer. Not your eyes when I left. The first to love were also first dead: sugar & jagged dagger, more than stripped. During our silent decade, I read your yellowed letters: inebriated forests of sentimentia. My life in our arboretum had been curled. burning sky & thickened pond, fire & water (I craved). I needed air-… Read more →
She worries her hair, which feels like a wire brush. As for the cadaver? That she keeps going with occasional gigs, and a presence (web) and “friends.” When Rick Wakeman is playing East Stroudsberg, PA, the world has changed. And if in reading this you’re lost, well, there you are, the world changed, the stars fled, the gifted hired as… Read more →
Inside every rabbit grows a forest. A map tells me I am just shy of a thousand miles from the sand pine nodding outside your window. Each state between us jangles like a coin box. Each city: an insect- hole. I am too broke to come visit you, and even so I have become as small to you as the… Read more →
When they say I am nothing like my family everywhere I begin to see my son. The days loll into clammy pages, stain my hands indigo. This is what cleaning affords me: a soup lid in a trash bag slices my leg. Blood smears dirty plastic. I smash the coffee pot on the counter. If glass is bound… Read more →
I circle the date, buy a calendar, repeat steps to questions in the shower, deliver myself as close as I can to the platform. You get off a green line train to the left of my complex. The third sentence is No one’s turned up. You’re screaming. No one wants to eat. I’m running through my hair. We’re together in… Read more →
Every country has a me to be sad about. A mine. A isn’t this another, same time? We talk us up through a flurry, pace downhill. Class is college when you’re attending to it. There’s a train because one’s here & we are still, aimed for concrete.