Yes I am guilty, I’m guilty. A sin was desirable then. Bring the dancer back to the stalks.
Dylan Krieger’s poetry is unflinching, grotesque, and beautiful. Her work tackles trauma, wrestles authority, and is a decadent sonic feast.
You’ve spent a lifetime training for this.
You said it was okay to blame what goes wrong on the planet
Long after midnight, we’re talking about our first time
Ma wrings a wet world of colors
I’msorry I‘ll see what happens iLife
My grandmother asked, “Does it feel like being widowed?”
Live the rest of your life from one worst case to another.
Winter sat like a wolf on the horizon.
Part of being a good sad person is always painting the shadows in the right direction and knowing what sorrow to art with.
Should have found a job by now; should have slept in the night; should have boiled old coffee before noon.
Every so often, they add a tattoo in honor of some long-forgotten love.
Even from this distance I could go out the door it would bang shut and crumble
Okay, picture this: We’re in an elevator. The elevator shuts down. It doesn’t matter where we’re going, only that we’re alone.
Listen to me: I know the winter gloom in mid-summer…
Ghosts for hire, whispers in her mouth, cysts to feel, the symmetry of a gift.
it’s touch-and-go with me and weddings
I don’t know why I’m in the garden kneeling on dirt
The collective failure of ethical standards