“Type drugs,/delete drugs. Type illness,/delete illness. I’m blurry/& depleted…”
“funny how death isn’t much on the mind isn’t much a real thing isn’t much a/ concern until your body is a galactic crucible is a pillar of creation for the death-makers”
“Yesterday, I spent hours stroking the glean off my phone/until it erased every dead thing, until the dead were entwined/into its body.”
“god under my chin//hung together by a rusted artery/a copper clasp, poking”
“i once cracked open the earth. pleaded clay & rock to bare/children.”
“Turn me into a mirror, a space/for you to trap light, arms/rising up to make/the illusion of a head”
“The saying goes that revenge is a chilled soup. So, start with 2 whole Spanish yellow onions.”
“I never liked his mother/because she never liked me. Afraid of the damage//when the damage leans over.”
“Once an not now I/parachuted from a daring little plane.//As if a shipwreck survivor I crawled onto shore.”
Citrus is my only home To bite into an orange is not the same as to cut into an orange is not the same as to pick the orange Ask my father, he knows [...]
“I want a life where I feel strange and intimate/with the border between the real and unreal//and still get to eat.”
“if Rome had fallen here, this desert/would have made it look like the most miraculous/& inviting smoke.” “if Rome had fallen here, this desert/would have made it look like the most miraculous/& inviting smoke.”
“Often, when my mother leafs through large, cluster stacks of paper and/prepares them for the shredder, I imagine skin.”
“I say hello/to a small face peeking/round the corner of someone’s house:/a cat in my mind/until it stands upright…”
“He grabs and grabs your hand and you keep going, daring and bargaining and begging for grace, trapped in all the muck and fluidity of the in between space.”
“My vagina is mostly scales; it belongs/in the water, filtered and innocent.”
“my dolls have hands not much smaller than mine/I rip the arms off my plastic baby doll/my mother pops them back in the sockets”
“And yes,/I still see spirits by the fireplace. A whole orgy/of voluptuous ghosts eating honey roasted peanuts.”
“wheel chair/accessible/*back entrances”
“You have/a sans-serif face; I wanna check out/your cerebrospinal fluid.”
“People bloom and divide like kaleidoscope beads around her blond yellow bead head.”
“in the cobbler I baked a part of me/was not sure you would have a piece/because I could have been//alone.”
“I’ve seen a boy go missing inside himself, so I searched for him/in cracked church bells & shot-out light bulbs.”
“She knows/how to mouth no, the shape/of her lips an opening pit…”
“& I’m tuned into/the cicadas,/wanting to join/but what part/of the body/makes a sound/so primordial”
“Who wants a body that/wants this much to be alive?”
“No. I drank the oldest lake because it was either drink that or the drink the oldest sea and I’d already drank the oldest sea a few months ago…"
I wait for my drink and slip into a fever dream
My memory is made consumable by your hand.
your couscous still lingering, icebound, in the freezer
The moon was so dry it turned into a dandelion.
Our state flower is wild and we are western honey bee and sunflower until sundown.
alphabet soup what were / you trying to say before
like blank eyes and forced smiles in response to microaggressions
redness is to restlessness as _________ is to sightlessness
Judy had a bad habit of leaving finished drinking receptacles in her own car
“Mohammed Rasulu Allah,” (Mohammed is the messenger of God) she enunciated, giggling.
Dangle from a hook and shape-shift between noun and adjective
I know these rivers that flow through me / I’ve gazed out from their hearts and still you do not see me
They were no less fragile than us, these creatures, / but they seemed better used to staring down a fast / coming death.
It’s Sugar features a giant / blond plump lips parted, sucking a lollipop
I said to my partner yesterday, I want to die. / He said do you want to go to the hospital.
Then I wait, a woman / alone, hoping / to have touched the heart / of the widower.
maybe it is time for me to write poems for You. The Somebody Else. / i need to find a way to eat what comes out of me. The Wonder
CREW: (From the grid) It’s sweet that you think you / can break the fourth wall.
The horse stood trembling, had caught his leg in a toothed snare intended for the fox, / and she limped
you can take the boy / but the heckie naw stays / announcing his nation
white woman says that i would look so beautiful if only i took the time to straighten my hair
My priestess fries her perfect / eggs-in-a-nest: a seeping well, / saturating seams of crust.
At the duplicating center I work for, sometimes customers will leave behind important legal or personal documents
it was like in that moment, / the demon crawled out / of my chest to set a colorless fire / to my face and said believe her
Not all clouds is something I might add, as a postscript, not all clouds
you can return to masonry / be a gavel
At sixteen, she’s still new to this nation that un-names her daily.
trying to contain expansion means explosion
Our son will have solar flare / freckles splattered on his cheeks
THEM TOO I cannot take what isn’t a gift. Socket, Stiff dance, misdeed, a half intelligible embrace. Mistakenly, see what we have made. The wind Piles into sonorous, explicit columns. Just as we were [...]
My mother always laughs / when she tells that story.
I call you Ella from your very beginning
the women did not flee Mosul because they became of wings
I told father and things came flowing out of our red front door
Ghosts are like our otherselves in the multiverses grown
In the ghost town, a way station until E.’s wedding, you keep your vow to a dry-tongued silence.
My spoiled teeth suck down brawny intrusions.
I wish I did not negotiate my body like a capitalist always fearing my scarcity
hammered into the wall of the coffin pit picked up by me as you wandered as far along the rails as needed.
Between my fingers is a veil through which I may glimpse the sun.
Nobody is surprised. Nobody even tries to leave.
His mother kept two cockatoos in her bedroom. They sometimes shat on her bed, nightstand, on framed pictures of Angelito’s grandfather.
When the rhino broke its way out of your body / it broke its horn off too
I am failing to speak the language but I know now it is possible
But of course I cannot be every / body for you, you cannot be every / body for me; souls are slippery like minnows, they have no fleshy handles, there is nothing to hold to pull your soul deeper inside
& I’m not hearing All You Wanted by Michelle Branch or what about my skin or religion needs to be rescued
"folks care more about cars than they do bodies"
I am sure that my blonde hair is beautiful but the beauty of my other physical attributes I am much less sure of
Ugolino is a no-eyed man who jumps on his children
At the fading light bring to her the wolfish mouth of your need.
closed eyes to the watchers in the shadows angels formed in angles beneath the glittering opal
i awoke to the sound of a neighbor crying someone’s suffering is combing my hair
Sometimes when I enter a room, I pretend Zamunda from Coming to America is a real place.
If I could be seen as a force instead of an object instead of a hobby, if I could just do without having to be seen, or if it didn’t matter to me at all, I could be invincible.
black out the windows but the storm is in the house lightning in the bathtub rain over the carpet
Is it because always running is a cliché? And clichés are a rerun of something different? And since you were a boy, did they feed you questionable
i went to see the wizard & asked him for a cock he must have seen by the scuffs on my knees that i really needed one because he said ok
my small fingers curl around a cow’s teat. i point / it in the direction of the pail below. i don’t want to hurt
an animal on stilts reaches the virgin’s tears / and tenderly wipes them. / the virgin cries tres monjitas milk, without coffee.
Someplace else enrages the turtle why a turtle a turtle never did anything to me okay then an old white man with a sign.
Geoffrey, sometimes I think I wear my sadness like caul fat. / Like how a fetal pig never asks to be dressed
Despite everything, my parents raised me. / They even loved me. These things / should always be surprising.
When E is gone / and left / who will I be?
I watched a woman become gore under microscopes, / glowing skin a subterfuge of dust and memory.
all of the lights in the store have gone burnt / dim gaping shelves bent back like bones / breathing fruit rot and dust and no one
What is the problem what is it I ask myself day after day it does not change / I walk through the rooms of my house I open the windows though it is cold
The priest feels a softness washing the back of his neck. Maybe it is rain, he thinks, or sweat.
Self-Portrait with Tapestry and Severed Tongue The chasm of my empty mouth, a chalice flower gaping open in the dark. Was I guilty in this? Left alone ...........with him [...]
Anxious Diva tells me I’ve lost what’s fun about me. She says I’m flatter than death. Diva, help me cut these onions, help me feel arrhythmia, tell me how alive I want to be.
We cling to each other like / dust motes to light, and / fall the same way - slow and / landing in erratic patterns.
WE ARE BURYING THE HATCHET we are having a funeral for The Hatchet all The Hatchet's friends and family will be there we'll sing all The Hatchet's favorite songs someone will say The Hatchet was [...]