poem: “daddy issues”

he had a blank face with translucent light coming thru and the penis-bitten shape of my father in his mouth,ready to eat and replace me. i had the kind of longing that comes from sitting alonein a gas station, eating noodles from a smallplastic container with the translucent whitelight in my hair turning me into… Continue reading poem: “daddy issues”

poem: shifting

remember? i dreamed aboutthis kind of bliss but now in the pulled-apart strings of myheart there is onlya dull long ache and the aluminum footsteps of heart-burncoming up from my chest like a foreign man crossing overmy seven boarders his handsstill wet. remember? we were going to takethe world i woke you up in the… Continue reading poem: shifting

poem: I have lost reality many times

and yet she always come back, that unreliable bitch. you'd think I could let my organs run off in snot safetyfor several hours and not return to disgusting wherewithal when I shower or finally sleep, as if everything wrong with me was merely situational. I can write claimsin mad tongues that I am also doomed… Continue reading poem: I have lost reality many times

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: parents

my mother is a penis-eater, my fatheris a leviathan; what did they tell you about childhood, is "belonging" really already inside you? and the pain will someday(they say) go away? fuck that, i am laying in the kitchen, the circus lightsplugged in bloody holes in the ceiling devouring my face; my father is a worm… Continue reading poem: parents

writing: the holiday girl

not all of the following makes sense, really, but I'm publishing it anyway. call it "writing practice" and read at your own risk. "The meaning of literature" is something I think about often, especially after fucking, when my boyfriend has rolled away to stare at a book and I stare at the wall. I know… Continue reading writing: the holiday girl

poem: autumn / catch me i’m falling

highschool-me listened to far awaymusicals, the rx a foreign and edgy thing, everything sex, men smilingand cum dripping out; now the normalis redone and i watch – ravens land on old buildings,the turrets gothic, lined against the fall;nothing is magic – not the rawcoming in calendars, the daysfalling into vampire schedules, five a.m. blinking, late… Continue reading poem: autumn / catch me i’m falling

poem: pornographic europa

i met you under the meter-blockwith madness in my head—you pulled out— my spinal cord,you thought, you asked, i said. love comes down, i guess,to this: the ramones and black mornings,your hand in the mooring,my chemise and semenin the painting, the submissions—a literary edition of two peopleliving nicely, the prague-parissplit: we'll have sexand call it… Continue reading poem: pornographic europa

poem: repressions

the boys haveall gone; the city lightsswallow, the girl curledin wine dropletsand drained out— lastsupper, last chance. she has her shoulder-blades bare, she is waitingwe are allwaiting—where are the boyswith the black smilesready to devour my face;i have reflectionsin the alcohol glass, thisis modernity: i and i and iagain, eternal and gloamingand waiting alone.