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…

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…

poem: elegy

when you return home you are always 16. and i am living in that, livingendlessly filth of modern adolescence endlessly forever and ever amen. and i have lostthe smooth twisting of words, i have lost language. when i am halfway aroundthe world, will you regret how you treated me? when people run in media they…

poem: anthem for the skeleton trees

look we are back in the pain again. good for the writing / good for the fuckingkpop cafe it is summer in the park the trees are being consumed by the sky youreach in, pull out my five fingernails say your hands look better this wayanyway now you are really truly unique. internet culture identity…

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: shinji kinnie

i have not yet managed to get up at 5 a.m., do a gratitude journal smoothie bowl lift in matching sets with nike vans whatever cute shoes then listen to cupid'schokehold / breakfast in america then yoga podcast bitcoin. yes that's right i'm a finance bro, also a birthing person (that's a fucking slur, i'm…

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: 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,…

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…