The hair coiled around the drain. I bent down and ++++++pulled its split-end. It was long, heavy. The drain gurgled. No, beneath the tub ++++++gurgled. Perhaps, from the basement— a sound both sad and reluctant. Recently, I … Read More
They hold onto her/ and tell her/ tranquila/ they tell her estamos aquí/ to breathe/ to let go/ of all tension/ and then/ they let her go/ and she doesn’t sink/ and she says hallelujah/ and i’m just watching/ … Read More
to take the tag off the pink polo shirt my abuela gave me for christmas/ to walking around with the tag hanging on/ sticking out/ like a typo/ this is an ode to hanging on/ an ode to typos/ … Read More
This is a self-portrait with a blueberry- flavored cigar that tastes like heaven but is probably/ no definitely/ hell for my lungs/ with a king james bible that tells me i’m going to hell/ or if not that/ strongly … Read More
—after Sappho When Achilles was born the fates spun two threads: one long & dull, another ++++++short & golden: knucklebones chucked ++++++into a circle of dust—tumble & gleam—break night like a mirror, shining curvature of bone- … Read More
Before dawn stretched her rosy-fingers onto earth, before I threw a stone into the eye- socket of a storm & it broke like a cloud of wasps gone haywire: she, like an oil painting sprawled in the silence … Read More
I am home with the toilet paper and the vodka and the too-pulpy martini. A glowless fuckery, I am not what Bop wanted me to be. All that Sun-In wasted on me. Son, I know Hulk holds the same … Read More
At three you have come to love Lizzo and finally my legacy is taking root At night when the moon makes a sailboat of us all, all our decks starlit and scarred ++I want to help you feel … Read More
The filmy shapes that haunt the dusk. ++++++—Tennyson, In Memoriam Whatever fruit is on hand, mash with wine or beer in a slurry, add a couple cups of sugar, white or brown, a shot of rum, dollop of … Read More
SEATTLE WOMAN, 42, DIES IN CAR WRECK, BAKERSFIELD, CA FEB. 18, 1962 +++++++—News Headline Even after all these years, almost 60 or so, or more, it feels like more, and the sea, it feels like it must be … Read More
I want something like a ship, but not a ship, a way to cross the underlying expanse that isn’t water, but feels like water, illegible traces of microplastics, unconscious, the amphibious space that laps at immediate perception. I … Read More
My house is not a house of small beautiful things and nothing is ever clean here. A pucker in the doorframe indicates the upper floor will soon fall to the garden. I may tire of building my house … Read More