the mimed inadequacy - I would rather my motherheave me over the hilt. how much is forgiven - while I, in chosen purgatory, readdirty books - in the spirit of the literary and otherself-justifying ghouls. is the beauty the text itselfor the object the text makes andsurrounds - does one eclipse the other. how did… Continue reading poem: dates as sugar substitute
Tag: free verse poetry
poem: Ash Wednesday
recovered anomaly, the zine has never been moredead. histrionic contrarian - she has recently been upsetwhenever she is located, discovered,identified. high in neuroticism and agreeableness - I am gladi do not live inside your head. we have all beenoverexposed to personality, if i am differentI am cursed - if i am the same - i… Continue reading poem: Ash Wednesday
poem: bad riddance
she is beautiful and so I don't believe that shehas suffered. now old memories chase me in suddensmacking throat-openers, like red orangeson a table, in a blue bowl -- as I am between ruins. like an old woman, I pick themapart, blood stains under my tongue. now, writing, nothing comes to me to be described:… Continue reading poem: bad riddance
poem: twenty-twenty-four
in the space of the dream i am literate - he holds my head in his hands and wedance. the book coming down like rainstormand my vulva washed out. when i am pregnant, i will finally finish something, somethinglong and important. i will say something about itand the baby will laugh.
poem: song lyrics
i listened to marina & the diamonds before, in frosted hell, i found the corresponding subculture -- i curled in the in-betweensmall bed, not in a room but a corridor and you knowi think you could be right that purgatory isphenomenological or at least our concept of it, is -- anyway i was stripped out to… Continue reading poem: song lyrics
poem: he likely would have found me by chance and declared me a talented writer
her farce was weirdly unenviable; she said -- this man, he would find little savior/fellow strugglerfellow bearer of what is what isand then (camera wink) isnt it so ironic to askwhat is, when we are standing here, and weknow. he would find this inme. i write my manifesto, i slug along to meetings with nothing… Continue reading poem: he likely would have found me by chance and declared me a talented writer
poem: swan song for november
the whole bedrock for our silly little post-renaissance project is underground; the women with longsilver hair construction vest gray/blue tennisshoes: I can imagine her as anythingelse. in linen and singing. please rip me open and countmy ribcage, there is an maladjusted chromosome there isa space. yesternight i was listening to the cranberries and i remembered… Continue reading poem: swan song for november
poem: do not ask me to eat when i am not hungry
in the room where the husband did not diethe third wife sits, splays, lacerated -- the birds are thick this time of year. I can feel the Feeling comeand I can feel the healing, but it is easier to curl into it. take this pain, this wanting tobe lacerated: and understand, this is where the… Continue reading poem: do not ask me to eat when i am not hungry
poem: geoff rickly only made it on the streets
television was his anti-hero; a thousand suicides is tolerable -- talent is its own expectation. sweaty brown-dimthrashing basement, my girlfriend says you smashed her sidewaysinto the makeshift stage and I licked the pale red cutson her shoulder - clean, her head thrown back and zombie hoteyemakeup, the malaise shaking shaking all of usout the bass… Continue reading poem: geoff rickly only made it on the streets
poem: purgatory
a long time ago, there was surety - i was god, i metanother god; he was wayward future kingholder in palms of myeventual, watery breaking - we arguedin smoke-sweat places about theology and whetherhistory is a stasis, is therea retvrn. he liked girls crouched over theirover-abstracted intellectual, embroidery-squaresmall experience. he fought with me, i fought… Continue reading poem: purgatory
the last pavilion 