the summer days in rust, default purgatorium, the wheels run, fast sylphs of time -- the days eek bya nest, a stocking-run, a sigh. and I wait,though the fetal heart throbs within -- idea of someday,remade, when time will finallybe less foe than friend.
Tag: life
poem: postmortem
this is my brain on cortisol addiction: this is my brain atthis fucking job -- I'm kidding, of course; here it is poetryand we transcend! the turn towards -- writing aboutother people, the fiction writer as creep rather than solipsist; I have failed, but who else will creep out myinfected heart-box, my gutted-out self-hatred: envyat… Continue reading poem: postmortem
anthology: the california poems
secrets from a girl who's seen it all. summer of 2023. "california" - all my desperation left me / after I fell in love and now I cannot write. "the other option is to try to conjure powerful emotions (but not feelings)" - he understands that you / write about what you have. "dear stranger who… Continue reading anthology: the california poems
poem: coven of fifteen
now reset to cyclical sad: it is natural, when the green comes loosein fluid forgiving, to find solace in the Old. slicing through fallingtime imagining a baby here, in this place, with this music -- or the strain of itat another place. rummaging through person unbeset by aberration - 30 secondbrain-warp! the internet produces a… Continue reading poem: coven of fifteen
poem: hauntology
all of a sudden, it is too much muchness. my teenage selfwould have eaten this up: he's drunk, or he's telling her - you'll makeme start drinking again. dream blip, girl with M names thelast Paris poem, the first time we go to Paris is October and we will(respectfully) fuck. we will watch the swans… Continue reading poem: hauntology
poem: monologue
on the park bench she has nothing of sacred otherness, ripping her face offthere is just, mine. cigarette draw - like i do in dreams - saying, hmmmfifteen pages into gravity’s rainbow i had to reddit thread tounderstand a monster on the page, i can’t stand that sort of referencial minutia; if theText cant hold… Continue reading poem: monologue
poem: belle and sebastian
grown-up teenage ennui, I'm middle-aged I'm middle-agedyou sing to all the kids, eternally dying, out in America-nowhere. whatkind of cry can the old outcast make, wearing commercial successwith the same joviality that drove me, 17, to findyou, fellow-shut in, beneath the bookstore bookshelf; you toldme about the thin lines between continuing and not, andother fictions.… Continue reading poem: belle and sebastian
poem: getting back into things
pop culture re-work through the freeze, the dead years atpinnacle of our youth. i am too scared to confront feeling - good lit ficirony, she dies when she wants to live, how boring. songwritingis a gift I do not have, the days slow down -- memories rip and wreckwithout warning, virgin birth: vivid grass smell,… Continue reading poem: getting back into things
poem: blog update
countdown to Self-Immolation/Explosion, new verge into briefand lolz - submissions session yet again? I never had a betterfriend; I never wept a better end. ship of theseus: mother metaphornot yet over-run, Default Virgin on the surface of online, on the coral reefof interwebs. going skinny like skinny-dipping new girl/old sex in New York, I briefly… Continue reading poem: blog update
poem: vainglory
as one forgettable moment he was instead boxed upand carried into the currents of many weeks, in which the fear of first lovehad me swept like a rag alongthe Mormon suburban streets, at dusk, my heart at cardio-tempo, what if what if what -- he is a rebound, I am wicked. the quickness kept the… Continue reading poem: vainglory
the last pavilion 