POETRY

“Poetry is language at its most distilled and most powerful.”
—Rita Dove
i do not want to wait until it’s too late

the strands of your hair on the bathroom tiles aren’t sketching defeat. that’s you spitting disease in the face with another day you’ve woken up to.

Aging Punks

Every so often, they add a tattoo
in honor of some long-forgotten love.

Lobster

I suffer visions and many indignities
while looking for the Lobster

love poem with dead leaves & color

I would always rather be happy than
dignified. Rather held than held
in awe.

First

Long after midnight, we’re talking about our first time

The Body is a Sin

The sin is existing.

Good Driver

Lights on the dashboard spell out
“You still can’t kiss me”

appetites

you quit wearing pants
loaf around your yard
in hole-nipped panties

Finding My Fix

I slumped in front of a massive desk, a passive patient corroded with failure and dread.

books
Ode To the Dove Pt. V (Avrom Sutzkever)

I am still waiting for the lion

necromancer woman, witch woman

In my universe, my arm carries a heart and flowers,
my back a misguided quote

oh Manifesto

The collective
failure
of ethical standards

Soft Porn and Cuban Pine

It recommended
soft porn, as gentle prodding and petting parent
to parent might calm and soothe the kid.

My Multiverses

It is the 70s. 1970s? 2570s? Who knows?
Audre and I have a penthouse in New York.

Hollywood Hills
the remarkable thing

I am still waiting for the lion

Sadness is a Sin

If my life was the size of my arm, I would stretch it out for you.

heavy rain
The Plot

Long after midnight, we’re talking about our first time

Fallout Shelter

I imagined a cascade of slow death for all / that mattered…

Drowning in sky

I have observed, the theorist
I am

Observer of the Patient

Her brown eyes,
how a fig
considers itself.