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June 30, 2018

I said it all before

my lips keep strange hours

only pens know

when the bar is open 

and the words flow.

June 30, 2018

In spite of myself

the Potential for art squeezes a cadmium red.

Crushed, I bleed out bright

like an accident 

over hands that don't know they shaped me.

November 11, 2017

It’s not love that keeps a body but necessity.

By nature, their prestige and normal habits

cannot complete the task.

There is nothing to take with us.

Stones and trees are best left undisturbed

as much as we want them to become something else.

Everything exists quietly.


August 26, 2017

I still try to assess you with words,

placing stars amongst a black sky.

I am like you, predisposed to mold

all things into my image

to arrange a constellation

you begin and end here.

In the great darkness and stillness of night, you descend

and dwell upon my surface like a g...

July 30, 2017

I wish to speak with you

if my hands remember how to make a prayer.

Nature does not reflect you, really

but is what you dwell among

having returned to what you always preferred

and doesn’t confine you.

You never cared for fleshly clothes

and only wore the shape of a man for m...

July 27, 2017

A cross

as the arrow

and the cheek moves

they should have met

and I bleed

to show I live and bear fruit.

10,000 soldiers march with arrows that draw

and go in smooth

planting red flowers

I should have let them use me

grateful to have been made immortal across fields

for their mas...

July 5, 2017

Diminutive, scarred, and strangely formed

you closed, closed, closed every door to look at me

I lived past your thighs but

not your hungry mouth beyond

you left things in my cupboards that are not mine

as if by default, before closing them again

and crawled inside my womb


July 4, 2017

Charred earth roils and churns within me

so I crumbled my bones to ashes

and melted my skin like ore

in remedy.

I’ll dwell like you,

as shadow and mass,

until summoned

with more intentionality

than all the witches and shamans before her;

with rosehips and lavender and

salt, salt...

July 2, 2017

I stabbed myself too many times

in order to change my shape

and now its all leaked out

like a paper cup with too many holes in it.

Empty shapes can still be people.

The world drifts in and out of them.

All things are taken in,

thrust against canyons that do not echo

and pass b...

June 23, 2017

Cold unfeeling steel pressed against my cheek

the slab

that lays not horizontally

but forces me to stand upright

straightening my spine unnaturally.

A freak on a metal sheet

I move and carry myself

but cannot lay flat

so it claps against me as I walk

repulsed by the breasts and...

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