Listen to me: I know the winter gloom in mid-summer…
my friends’ fathers are dropping I mean dying like flies
here is the sky in stop motion, flickering, a still shot in monochrome
the man is stayed bent over the canvas of my sofa. the man is me the man is him self and I bring down the whip…
Should have found a job by now; should have slept in the night; should have boiled old coffee before noon.
There is so little left of the tomato plants.
I have an axe with hearts gashed
Do not say anything anybody else has said ever. Things are not “bleached by sun.”
Gravel-scatted hell & we were blessed to be able to hold on for even a heartbeat
and then her eyes fully opened — blazed through with strands of mud
People have always coped with flooding, and they learned to cope with death.
I myself should never have been born
how does an afternoon turn on its axis?
Even from this distance I could go out the door it would bang shut and crumble
Every so often, they add a tattoo in honor of some long-forgotten love.
Now that the Israeli has left, it falls on me to make the salad.
it’s touch-and-go with me and weddings
If my life was the size of my arm, I would stretch it out for you.
Empty vessels make the most sound, I think, as you rip the fairy lights off the handrail.
you know that baby swallows make silver ripples in wild rivers to court reeds?