poem: venus in a dirty bedroom

why is it so hard to sit down & work! but the logician goes mad faster than the poet,the logician wants to fit heaven into his head. i believe i read that on twitter, sitting alsoin a cafe in tight yoga pants. and my cute little ass! can you really call mean incel with an… Continue reading poem: venus in a dirty bedroom

poem: the problem with the manga was that the characters were far more insane

it's 2006 there are half moon creases in my face from my fingernails fromtrying to tear out the blackheads. it's 2022 i have reddit pulled up welcome to then.h.k. manga vs anime another night spent alone. i will imagine him holding mein order to sleep. in highschool i imagined the world razed and fucked laid… Continue reading poem: the problem with the manga was that the characters were far more insane

poem: lifeboat

i am tired of the body horrors of other people's children, i would like(pretty please) cotton-candy romance. an empty park at sunset with the geeserunning backwards and the bench making crosses in my back. the way his hair drips over his eyes, his shirt tight against his shoulders. all you internetghouls (i am among you):… Continue reading poem: lifeboat

poem: love story, spring

in the sticky wet parts of your eyes -- do you remember --the unfortunate, maniac -- me? and my -- powerstruggle. so that I am where I am today. and the universe will bendto me if I lick it. and you willbend to me if I bend down, lick your -- and the spring fell… Continue reading poem: love story, spring

poem: breasts and eggs

she is standing in the stairway -- red overalls and shinyblack hair dancing around her neck in the lopped-off way that i always wanted (when i cut my hair shortit is a tempest, a misery.) she is maybe forty, she lookstwenty-five. i want to ask her: why is itwhen i have just gotten overone thing,… Continue reading poem: breasts and eggs

poem: storm

the faucet is on so the pipes don't freeze; throughout my wholebreakfast and coffee-drinking ritual, the water is a silentlurker in the background. i have never read Faust, but somethingin this snowstorm makes him omnipresent; he is a man and he isstanding in the snow. watching me naked through the window. i puton an old… Continue reading poem: storm

poem: the sun also rises

I have this idea of maine -- the ocean is a small god, a constantalways suicide; there are pine trees like there werepine forests in my childhood, their raging phallic heads high above the fire, the drifting smote, the cow-flysilluminated from behind and turned into fairies. I have this ideaof paris, with long cafe-evenings enveloped… Continue reading poem: the sun also rises

poem: everybody wants to get right back to the chorus

hero-ika mad, her name was something foreign, she hadpre-raphaelite posters on the wall, new yorkertote bag tucked like a third armunder the anthropologie coat. can't you imagine fucking -- her? neither can I, in this culture, we don't fuck anymore / at all; everything is online, everything is ironic. and the warm air went softly… Continue reading poem: everybody wants to get right back to the chorus

poem: the liar is the girl from last spring

on the corner of the world i licked out the fringes; the future is justthe new element in the equation of the present, and i ammaking it, i am the / creative. and you, darling, are the road not taken. you lick my neck and my face; yes, at the heart of all this, this… Continue reading poem: the liar is the girl from last spring

poem: clinical subterfuge is not a diagnosis

but give it twenty-years time, give it a lot of desperate people. they say gender is performance but only (honestly) class is performance, class is shunted offon the everyday sexual life on the everyday person, all madepolitical so someone, in a fifteen-thousand-dollar apartment, can readthe new yorker and mastrubate without guilt. the blue night comes… Continue reading poem: clinical subterfuge is not a diagnosis