poetry

  😯 :: { Every Bond You Break}   & when they are all gone, the horses will open their great, great body. Two suns. One red. & one blue. Drew from a cold rogue through para- magnetic & reactive … Read More

  You love him, don’t you, & from zero, zero, zero. Like photons flitting in the abyss, only shall two Lay waste this world wretched &— x oh oh oh.   Say a light year meant light death & a … Read More

  —after The Cranberries   I never made it through a single night. It wasn’t without design. The brxght. Brxght xyxs. & still the border. Night. ++++++Unfurls.   +++:: & the xyxs ::   +++shudder through hurricane season. +++++++++How soon. … Read More

  I’m told I’m roller skating in the oldest punk house in America. I want to believe it, but I don’t. We all want to be the biggest, the best, the oldest. Every poem answers a question I’m still defining. … Read More

  You’ve got to hand it to them, the ravens. They live just about anywhere—a garbage dump in the Mojave Desert, base camp on Mount Everest, or atop the water tower of the Chelsea Hotel. One ate a king’s heart. … Read More

  Crush the cockroach but not the ant, not the bees buzzing by   your palm about to press into mine, not the legs   of centipedes caressing concrete, not Chihuahuas’ feet   resting in a litter of nine. Trust … Read More

  John swept leaves into a pile on the porch. Our neighbor turned the dirt   of her balcony planters with her hand trowel and lined them with snakeskin—to scare off squirrels.   I saw their ghosts slither with the … Read More

  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