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: cold war in the fridge and reheated

thirty day poetry challengeday 05– ‘leftovers‘ am I supposed to relate to the third-child motherstanding on the porch with her vaginaon the flagpole and a joint fuckedinto her mouth like a second-smile, the smokesagging through her -- she is Americanmyth; at least during the Depressionshe probably believed in God and sold her childrenwith some feeling,…

poem: my father said he was going to the store, we needed milk

thirty day poetry challengeday 04– ‘buy milk‘ I broke down, like my father's car, which had been breaking down again and again, like my fatheralways broke down -- in the parking lotor the pharmacy queue -- where his latestprescription sat whore-ishly orange;he prized them like my mother's tits or my grandfather's slaps or my own…

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: i tell God He has a lot of explaining to do

pain is whati am used to; the baby came outin pieces. do you cryyourself to sleep, at night?sometimes.

poem: reader, she is lonely again

I sometimes have a queerfeeling in regardsto you; so said, janeeyre, that precocious bitch. probably drinking spiked water,in a club in california, and not thinkingabout /him/, or so she tellsthe intrusive thoughts. the gleamof the orange purple dancingpeople is twistedinto her throat; watch the sparrowwrap herself into lightening-rodsand snap, sparkledisintegrate.

poem: us and them

they met on a trainand then did not meetfor manyyears.the girl said, stories must be,by definition, sad and therefore i do notwant a storywith you. the boy said, we have nochoice we are humanand thus doomedto suffer.

poem: hemingway

I pulled an all-nighter, I pulledthe night between my teeth likethe bloody fists ofa man; I stretched the nightbetween my teeth and left school-shooter chalk on the people askinghow, why, andare you. they leftthey all left; and I stayed aloneto watch the sun vomit,greasy violent strands over the lovers especially, their handstheir hair dripping in…

poem: instagram

silent ownership in the night, youonly exist like a characterinside my mind-fuckingmental state. i want to make it keep it pretty, i cannot / but whenit happens, it issoft little waves rushingup on me. the daylight is veryawkward, we are realpeople. the refrigerator is silent,mad old greek godor silicone statue, thinkingi took your motherfaster, manage…

poem: introduction to portraiture

this morning i woke up, and ignored thattomorrow i will do soagain; we are in the stages we are not thinkingabout that. again. i have a lotof things i only useonce a week/month, i have a lotof pride. this morningi flossed with crystal floss, i foughtwith my mother. i am so fuckingmad at youright now.…