you quit wearing pants loaf around your yard in hole-nipped panties
Millions of Americans have been affected by identity theft. It’s probably the greenhouse gases.
I don’t know why I’m in the garden kneeling on dirt
I’msorry I‘ll see what happens iLife
Every so often, they add a tattoo in honor of some long-forgotten love.
how does an afternoon turn on its axis?
I myself should never have been born
Dylan Krieger’s poetry is unflinching, grotesque, and beautiful. Her work tackles trauma, wrestles authority, and is a decadent sonic feast.
I have an axe with hearts gashed
I buy too much, for someone of my stature. could pawn a skinny metaphor to purchase a plump skin. its reputed in our lineage— to daydream a life that shreds our pockets.
I am still waiting for the lion
Just starlight and some small scribbling across vinyl.
My grandmother asked, “Does it feel like being widowed?”
Her brown eyes, how a fig considers itself.
We found in his suitcase T-shirts, his siddur, gifts he bought for his grandchildren…
I imagine that undressing a color, though, would be so much like peeling a memory away from the grey and the white matter of your brain.
my love is a glass shard, a knife made of madness and moonlight, and there are already way too many fragments in this house
I am not a guide for every traveler of loss.
and then her eyes fully opened — blazed through with strands of mud
and apples, mackintosh mostly, but any kind left in The Pub at the Assisted Living Place