poem: poetry submissions

the little misty furs inside my mouth, drawinga blood line; I was once somebody, somebody -- now I am on the breath, the knife-point, of obscurity. the lavender light, in the evenings, crouchedlike a ghoul at the windows, like a dead hamlet girl, pre-raphaelite flowers in her sticky hair. I could, but cannot -- write… Continue reading poem: poetry submissions

poem: I could die? a footnote?

or: "aesthetic irl"thirty day poetry challengeday 09– ‘goals‘ the plead tweed coats, manufactured in England or Bangladesh, and ink-on-fingers, cigarettes. leaves Rattling againstthe gothic, heavy windows because what else? /how do I describe James Joyceand Virginia Wolf: like readingemotions. reading the old novels, in cafes(because what else?); the middle-class, they kept writingabout God, now we… Continue reading poem: I could die? a footnote?

poem: i misspelled the name of the artist and had to google it

do you want to know whythe academics are elitists hatedthatcher have politics like sexfuck their candidates roughlyin campaign emails andsupporting media; they knowinside their flower gardenskulls ironic skeletoneyeholes, thinking nothingeverything all at onceall like nothing, my mindis a frida kahlo painting, it is derridait is torn and deconstructedand "torn," a 1997 Natalie Imbruglia pop hitnominated… Continue reading poem: i misspelled the name of the artist and had to google it