Poetry
Well Preserved
When you were born / I canned thirty-six jars of plum tomatoes. / They followed me for seven years / until I felt debt free and tipped the last ten down the...
Sleeping Buddies
I search the medicine cabinet / for melatonin — my pineal gland / doesn’t produce enough for me. / I’ve lost my circadian rhythm because / at night, I think of the polar bears. ...
Wanishkaa: The Story Hunter’s Lovesong
We woke, and he told me that love tastes like raining. Looking at each other, our bodies bare, the memory of our flesh an umbrella over us, his eyes roving over mine,...
Prayer For My NDN Bb Girls
Sing a song for the Indigibabes who make acrylic shine like diamonds, and $10 mucklucks that they lifted (see also: liberated and repatriated) from Ardene’s look so good, they might as well...
As You Wish
you are still in the philippines / / by a dock inhaling sea salt / enjoying the dance of the palms / / your ancestral home / / of...
Three poems about being transparent
Personne ne pleure / pourtant la nuit est cousue par tous les côtés / au bord du vide / la statue penche dangereusement / et pourrait à tout moment tomber / les...
House of Targ
I wash my wrist with water lest / my blue stamp of approval be the death / of my bed’s high thread-count spread. / / I wash the south out of...
Three Ontological Studies: Feet
Which is worse, the body / or the mind? Pressing, always straining / to be somewhere else: / the headlong weight of them. / But the feet / / are kind,...
Waterfall/Semantics
If it ever took a life, it is unaccounted for. / Stone tumbler. Giant’s breath. White death. / A growl ripped in a gurgle. Throat’s cavern / jerking air down dark eroded...