for me & them & us I & it can happen in the house & it can happen in the pub & it can be in the dinner conversation [...]
Everglades in High Heat mangroves like finger bones dipping into tea stained water warped and bent gators are trained to follow the whirring fan so customers can snap photo [...]
RED washing down decongestants with cold coffee reading ur glistening emails just a free-floaty fragment without a torso as if what I was possessed by was your missing arm [...]
THE RINGMASTER for CK Williams The ringmaster, gaunt in his overalls, seventeen feet tall with a cigarette, leans on the big top. The lions are early, the tamer, late. [...]
Winter in the Wismar 1 Rain bloats the city, sets my marrow to wax. My neighbour's beard is stained an ochre O. I rarely leave. The shrill birds echo [...]
SARDINE SPINE Never have I seen vertebrae so small, so white like a strand of pearls without luster, unclasped. The spine is tenuous, made for a touch more tender [...]
QUIET INDUSTRY I am sucking on pearls and roasting pears on my body. the vibrant splendour of lilac season is fleeting as a love affair leaves me lush and [...]
FROM NOTHING GRANTED who wants to be why God doesn’t come her neck [...]
ON LEAVING BERLIN I sold all my books for a rock of butter and a glass of almond milk A rock and an almond traded for all those hours [...]
LOGICAL POSITIVISM Oh, these gorgeous days, whatever's the opposite of pathetic fallacy. The glorious milkdrop sun; the walnut heart's rotten meat. . HERON If only I were a heron, [...]
FUCKING DAFFODILS I turned off. Leaky spout my mind was. I turned off and kept the lights on while I slept. We fucked like deer in prairie grass: camouflaged, [...]
CUPIO DISSOLVI a 30 ft. statue of the magyar riding horseback and my sister climbs it in a flimsy party dress panties showing hoists herself right up the tail [...]
excerpt from Baveuse (2015), available at Electric Cereal WOMEN WRINKLE You have to be passive to wear Silk . Touching Louise Bourgeois’s spider sculpture was exciting, almost sexual. Ryan didn’t [...]
Fireflies of the Apocalypse It seems natural that I should want to keep my blood, want teeth and closed circles here in lakefront country. I step into the cool [...]
510 Permanence of five o'clock At the in-laws', tired Sunday, Where the light rams down Into soupy, roadside weed, Where the chickadees chatter about A sop of misty seed: [...]
CONTINUATION A trend of weather emerges: decomposition. The lake is frozen now, the fish strangled. Any weeds, any green there was, flattened by a cap of glass. The fallen [...]
EARLY EVOLUTION Be a doll now, you say, and I am become one I pluck a flock raw for its plumage Strip, I say, and birds strip bare I [...]
Elephant Man: Dark Matter Joseph-called-John moves between the pillars on the stage to glimpse the pixies in the lights before him. He creeps close to them and asks every [...]
SO GROUNDED For Irene Koronas I cling to objects, for example: a leather-bound book, almanacs, sprigs of dried mints. I would like to build a museum like Pamuk has [...]
SAND PIPERS Chuck clamshells at them for acting mindlessly, these little joggers in bird suits, talons tapping the glass tabletop of ocean spill. They chirp, bicycle miles of sine [...]
It's the best I can do—to catch myself if I fall, to not break my teeth.
The internet is just a couple of boxes in Utah— every summer at Bonneville, land speed records
We wrestle at the limits of forgiveness, always more to say that's not worth the saying.
To anyone who’s ever walked around it, to anyone there right now, lay down your stones, the pyramid does not point north.
Blue sparks flash through the windows of the sleepless as the last train scrapes the elevated rails and rumbles away into the glowing orange dark.
WHAT ABOUT THE GAY PENGUINS AND THEIR TINY UNHATCHED EGG
The truth about the coat I traded half my records for
I cannot describe the perfect bruises and bite marks on your arm, but Elizabeth Bishop could.
Here I have wept. Mold on the walls, roar of the hard, divine sentence on the weak and the lost.
About craving, about arthritic haunches on big dogs the distance between childhood and that second thigh
MAHLER’S NINTH Gone, the pile of shut black mouths bowled in cold water. Gone the thyme and tang of shallot, as the garlic burns in the oil. They whir [...]
There is a roof one man’s body makes over another. Pine needles on sharp grains. This is what I remember.
My carriage spills waste. Brown lachrymose blood along crotchlines. My carriage spills waste. Metabolized yellow.
Feminists fuck like a real man You’re always unfastening buttons you don’t need to.
(A skilled calligrapher will tell you that they should “give the impression of a sail filled by the wind.” But a poor first stroke, and the others will “look like lost cotton wads tossed by the wind.”)
Never past the pink concrete altar where roasted the Christmas pig Never under a hush, slipping off my shoes, letting you check the door first
and I guess it looked bad or looked–– how boyish
I pick plums from a tree in your backyard for breakfast and brush the fur off with my nightgown.
I misread “so many people killing it this month” as “so many people killing this month.”
like ~ the space between magnets I blossom
I wanted it to be like a movie where interrogation leads to advanced interrogation and what you learn in school
He is ryegrass. The voices of his heart like tensed wings; ripples in the serum of a stoppered vial. Death is the only word in any language sleeping won't spoil.
the body so like surgeons or Michelangelo we dissected dogs and cats and called it art and took our pictures with the work and turned this fear to wonder
or butterflies. blunt sides of pins. the polyester blanket soaked
Dawn outside his chambers disintegrates, retreats, Anxious, breath unwholesome, like the stricken man.
I hadn’t been able to read it in the darkness of the hall. The train was late, all the blueness was becoming gold.
Ladies, this license plate is your journal, an everlasting ticket up a Northern route where you’ll still have access to electroshock therapy through some faux forest in the middle of the US.
Where the way this combo tongue and squeeze the air tells me it’s John C’s b’day-O yes; he had a nice place on Long Island
About a third space, a place of a community and a place of solitude.
Past the stone angel heads and over the calm brutes, the freeway thins and wears white like a patient tonight.
a wayward protein bloodletting from unforeseen orifice gathers us to elongated grass-fed hours
TENDER DATA Inquiries feel like enemas What is it called when your fist blooms inside someone The civilization I live in has lost its purpose so I turn to [...]