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…
Just starlight and some small scribbling across vinyl.
you know that baby swallows make silver ripples in wild rivers to court reeds?
I imagined a cascade of slow death for all / that mattered…
The poetry of Brian S. Ellis unravels, inverts, investigates, and complicates. His poems are radical koans and invitations to forego common narratives.
Should have found a job by now; should have slept in the night; should have boiled old coffee before noon.
In my universe, my arm carries a heart and flowers, my back a misguided quote
Long after midnight, we’re talking about our first time
Listen to me: I know the winter gloom in mid-summer…
Dylan Krieger’s poetry is unflinching, grotesque, and beautiful. Her work tackles trauma, wrestles authority, and is a decadent sonic feast.
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.
four-thirty a.m.
this is what I want you to to see: leaves falling because it is too late for them not to
Lights on the dashboard spell out “You still can’t kiss me”
I have observed, the theorist I am
The two of us toast to a man we both love, to whatever degree, clink our glasses and laugh…
I have an axe with hearts gashed
You’ve spent a lifetime training for this.
Do not say anything anybody else has said ever. Things are not “bleached by sun.”