Poem of the Week

Mama says I’m killing Jesus
again every time I return home […]

Pulsars look like prisms through the binoculars
you aim at the gaps in power lines. So what. […]

Where do dream & dreamer end?
You were mercurial as cloud shadow […]

a fidgeting rectangle, the smell of carpet softened by massaging feet. there are few
places in this world my body is safe. the edge of a rug. the sharp line of a grave. […]

I agree it’s hard to make a life here.
The song doesn’t live
past seven folds, stays gaslit. […]

So,

I’ve always been a sucker for bondage. […]

the pigs busted my skull in / says her fiancé / in the 80’s / apparently Minneapolis was worse / or un-filmed / […]

There is much to do. The room is red
because we are indecent. The light gives
me up. I’ve made myself at home: I sit on your porch, […]

found discipline at the end
of a whip. punished the wild […]