writing: screenplay #3, “muse”

The window is gothic, church-shaped, above her. She is bending over a wooden desk, working furiously; outside, it is autumn and the light is brilliant and orange. Her hair tucked hurriedly behind her ears, curling out. He comes and stands above her, looking down; there is something unusually serious about him; he is a person…

poem: writing camilla

he slept on the desk, in half-glacier grandsnow sweaters, the pine trees and cardinal birds, their throatsbright and ready! red, sloping down to his hands --big and masculine, and knotted up fromwriting her, sad long letters; when the day swept to a small close, the trees leaning in, snow falling off and conjoining; he slept…

poem: my charger

thirty day poetry challengeday 06– ‘my charger‘ was sometimes a wattpad boy (and I mean that ironically and also unironically) -- who wanted to go to Heaven nowrather than later, because it seemed betterthan whatever else; I don't know if that really counts as wanting to kill myself, he said; but I was listing, the…

poem: telling him about the affair

thirty day poetry challengeday 03– 'no more staples' no more staples in the mouth, I will(I think) speak -- angel, devil drag medown; cut my polaroid in half, swallow the denser edge, leave mymouth on the vibratingtorn-off edge; I told you all thisstanding on the edge of a mausoleum and your face was white,reflecting the…

poem: old romance

thirty day poetry challengeday 02– ‘CD‘ the CD was a iron disk that she slippedin and out of her mouth, and when he called her from the bathtub she pulled off her skin threw away her face; he sang along to her in the car and laterremembered nothing, it waslike juvenile sex with all the…

poem: unopened

thirty day poetry challengeday 01 - 'unopened' like her legs the night of the yellow-dress party (and heryellow hair) his skin still caught in her throat. she said -- I don't carewhat your grandfather sayscan't we take this far away and crash into immortality, the city a loud and bright envelope the partygirls standing, watching…

poem: colorado rich girl

girl driving home in a beat-uptoyota with the bare legs of spidermen draped overthe cut glass of her open holes, listeningto hey ho hey i'min love with you / you're in love -- but she always saysthe wrong thing, he finds her in the toiletvomiting blood. she pulls herselfapart / inside like the mountains,the old…

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: 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: love poem to internet aesthetics

I can't imagine --a fairer day to love You, thantoday -- the sun is white on the tiles, the statues are made-up likeprostitutes and in the centerof the universe old men sitand talk -- about atomics, aboutwoman, does a form exist independentlyof the concept? In Rome, they do not botherto answer; they make mad love…