poem: vendetta for the summertime

i have run through the streets, kicking my breasts before melike two cast-off wheels; i have dyedmy hair from a box,it is red, like the red scraped under my nailsfrom fucking your son. i am kidding of course; i am too busy languishingin hospital beds or the wet parts of my mind, and lately the… Continue reading poem: vendetta for the summertime

poem: heavenly bastard in the sky

he said somedayyou will see yourself on the otherside of the mountains, your facein the trumpets of the yellowsea. mongolian ash-trays cannotsee you; they see shadows, breastsand hands where girls blinkand shit; he wascurled in a chair, his parts decriminalized into yarn, readinga white book. the trumpets go andgo. she said somedayyou will see yourself… Continue reading poem: heavenly bastard in the sky

poem: i misspelled the name of the artist and had to google it

do you want to know whythe academics are elitists hatedthatcher have politics like sexfuck their candidates roughlyin campaign emails andsupporting media; they knowinside their flower gardenskulls ironic skeletoneyeholes, thinking nothingeverything all at onceall like nothing, my mindis a frida kahlo painting, it is derridait is torn and deconstructedand "torn," a 1997 Natalie Imbruglia pop hitnominated… Continue reading poem: i misspelled the name of the artist and had to google it

poem: the winter girl and the sunset boy

the winter has me wishingthat you and iwere still something; do you remember two years ago(two centuries of yesterday) i was desperate and drowningin idealism, in pacifiedanxiety, andglowing newintellectualism at midnight and dawnand also love poems, written for youmainly on the coffee datewe almost had:the old me, studying hard,too-hot latte in hot handscaffeine sparking slow… Continue reading poem: the winter girl and the sunset boy

poem: insular

is it like last year – the self inside the self? the same lattes, the same late-night girls,working working workingfor ivory schools,jades – and pearls – i can forgive the coffee if it counts towards yale,princeton – oxford –the university of nowhere,un château dans l'air, hiding in front of me,resurrecting what –might have been: the… Continue reading poem: insular

writing: the things that happened today

I stood in the shower a long time and imagined getting out, taking my towel from the hook and wrapping it around my body, and then unclipping my hair and shaking it loose and bunching the curls between my fingers, and walking back to my dorm room. My room is clean. Nothing else, lately, has… Continue reading writing: the things that happened today

poem: East Egg

there is a green light shining in the outside of myself, I am a woman, twenty years old. I would like to say I am living in Paris, waking up to men who keep dried flowers pressed between Proust, their lips wet before the cigarette and after sex; when I take my black umbrella and… Continue reading poem: East Egg

poem: unclean

leaning over the rooftop into her music she lets men come and stop like death cabs, she is not finished, her art goes into her pillowcase; she lies awake afterwards and asks her lover— (the plaster wall with the lip holes) hey, what if I wake up and there is no Paris, no bohemian cafe… Continue reading poem: unclean

poem: happiness

I know good things take time—but I wish we were already at the part where he is texting me 'goodnight' and I am waking up with his breath on my back— that we already owned the studio apartment, the kitchen window looking out on cafés and city alleys, the baby in the living room and… Continue reading poem: happiness

poem: girl waiting alone for her lover, at dusk

I am watching the trees catch Darkness, the cupped hands, the branches, all shaking; feminity is caught tight in the branches, the men are earth and sea and sky.   Night stumbles into the foreground; she is drunk, she watches her enthronement: the earth laid thin, dyed with falling eyes, faded mirth, coughing angels. This… Continue reading poem: girl waiting alone for her lover, at dusk