poem: outside of the internet it is May

rain comes on days when i am in a hurry, but in some other lifei will stop and watch the glass melt. the squat green trees and the pinebushes, melting into smaller parameters. the rain sound like lo-fi likea tin roof turned inward, and a thousand nails -- clattering clatteringclattering. but it is soft, like…

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):…

poem: guilt

I have given up the intellect, the trying mad times of the morning sent and kafka fucking me carefully over my mouth. I never read hisdiary. I have read nothing -- I spin my mouth open carefully into the long reeds of morning, I am sitting in last summer with bananas and honey and the…

poem: ‘lofi for anxiety’ on spotify

my hands are very dry -- tonight. and in the raw grate of myhead ten-thousand people would fuckme, and then sit with me in coffee shops and I would say, if I wentto grad school, the only thing I would write my thesis on is the mythologicaland archetypal basis for bad boy/good girl ships. like,…

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…

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…

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…

poem: ‘muse’

the christmas tree divorced in the window, the ce n'est pas real tree -- she is wearing a red sweater, the thread caughtat the edge of her neck, the cotton peter-pan collar. when she coughs the spit rides up her throat in a divorced ball and he, watching, imagines taking it out, colliding it, marrying…

poem: oxbridge

he came from his side of the bed: whiteshirt, white sweater, whitetrousers with the cresses pressed in, as if he was a gothic romantic caricature of the fine, last old age, aging likeyoung wine, the dorian grey bright and apparent andhelium-esque on his face, he took my thinwhite hands inside his own,unworked, thin hands --…

poem: they say, men fall off the bottom curve of the earth

he bit into her — in long, sloping strides, and theirAfter was like the fall of Troy, her dress caulking down to herankles in the same violet waves, as she had seen, in the leavingof the wooden places she called Now, and now in his comingbetween her, the ships rising and firing and not ever,…