(A poem is born outside, hanging by my window; it flirts with disaster.) I remember the first time we went to Central Library in DTLA. We walked around, perused the poetry and children’s section. This was where we belonged: we were delicate and foolish like the brittle petals of an autumnal wildflower, like an adobe-vintage-vase filled with salted caramel ice-cream… Read more →
Manatee Bay heated like a kettle, while I watered wilting zinnias, yearned to turn back the tick-tock climate clock, only hope won’t deliver the cool I long for firefly nights thrum, oh— what a moon, silvering bluegrass. I shinnied up the Ash tree and afterward, had endless, steamy-mirror-crying showers. I smell the campfire sluicing off tangles, am still tasting grape… Read more →
Not once do I fear anything other than the possibilities of my own body breaking. In our moonless bed, I make you my teenage fantasy, crying on your hard chest as you mumble I’m here, I’m here, though you were just downstairs in my childhood bedroom, smashing a bookcase through the wall. Unlike a little girl’s board books with sweet… Read more →
it’s the new year 21st century & old history is breathing fresh but look: Bessie came back. And she is lit, lemme tell you. She ain’t Bigger’s Bessie, never was. She got her own claims to Big. That busted brick over her head, that body-freeze in all-consuming snow after he threw her body down his shaft? That shove ain’t gonna… Read more →
the females cost less than the males smaller slimmer shimmers of other veiltails above blue mustard throats swelling dorsal fins fluorescents distorted by wet walls no one with eyes & an anal fin deserves flat plastic for a sky even if it is cloudless if it dies in less than 14 days freeze the body & bring it back for… Read more →
As though some monstrosity were pecking its way out of our most penetrable parts and needed this pointed apparatus to crack through the shell walls that delimit our hard hearts, the heartbeak exists mostly where a missing r has plummeted out of heartbreak, leaving something sharper and clearer— this lance-like structure, this projection perfect for breaking, and thereby making a… Read more →
rolling ribboned smoke spits sound a breath of thunder calls from the mouth of morning I hear angels who learned to shriek and not to sing every day; I lean over their song I step from beat to beat and sway through repetition and count seconds mirrored between days – one, two, three – cold turns to boil on my… Read more →
The idea of it is to go forward into the trees or what at least we can call phrases and smoke from fire. Two phrases could have burst and have interconnected, too melancholy, a fountain, a fierce sense, that the world is summer and suddenly going to become true. As insects fall like laughter between our words, insects the summer… Read more →
