poem: lately i have been thinking about heat

and the way the desert, as an idea,sits apart and reacts to you. it is watching to see if you will make it out alive. or if you are one of the dead girls strungup first economically and then aggressively or if you arethe red stain left across the hands and thealtar. as long as…

writing: hunger and boys and poetry

There was a storm coming and she had run six miles and she was not hungry. She sprawled on the couch and ached pleasurably, but her stomach was ringing hollow. I am going to vomit, most likely. Why the fuck am I not hungry? Why the fuck? It was six miles. The last time her…

poem: atonement is the name of a book

I can feel the surge inside me -- water coming up from the underneath; people sneering, poland subdued-- I would wait for my lover at the window, in a green dress, but how can I if I cannot manage a morning routine? -- depressionis a modern invention, generation z does notneed our grandmothers' ecstasy, we…

poem: Angelika waited for Henri on the sidewalk

she felt that anything that happened; that had happenedpast highschool -- was notreal -- she had three dollars and 81 in the account; she kept herhair in a white ribbon in a queue; she romanticized the vomit on her bathroom floorlike she romanticized her cafe-haunts and the blackcoffee, Listz at breakfast and during poetryreadings and…

poem: woman vs. truth

his future was in his face,mine is in my crouch: a laundry-listof menial prostitution, bracketing the old crushesand old trauma and old men (hoveringaround the desk, watchingme work). i am reselling myselfday by day, in twenty-twenty-one,trauma is profittrauma is business. he thought he was terriblyoriginal: pretty boy, fucking the systemand then me after. next timei…

poem: savoir complex in maine

he was the summer crashed and crushedinto a boy who did not exist yet; and i remember a noveli was going to write -- about a girl with salted longhair, riding her bikealong seaside cliffs and a boy with black -- hair who worked in a bakery and wanted to kill himself. now when i…

poem: the coffee-shop people

the lights in the coffee-shop are plaguelights; the orange faces of men neutered and hung upsidedown. i am the lonely one, sitting at one of fifteen tables round like breastsand remembering why i studied in university to suchan extent that i had only casual friends; people that collided into my bodylike accidents; and i spent…

poem: touya

the boy he told me i don't believe anymore in the rest of my far away life and i told him none of usdo that is the secret everyoneis lonely and no oneis lonely everyone is separateand languishing

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…

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…