You were silent before, lover, I muted my own self to make sense of it. Backed against the wall, I slid forth my dignity into a meat shredder Lips pressed tight all the while. It was my pleasure. By the time you turned and were your own self again I was ground up, pattied and … Continue reading Lessons in a corner
Category: small figs
‘This is Not My Happly Place’
Sticky tones offer no solace to a girl who thought she loved music. Inconvenience is the enemy of luck and so of imagined possibility, so of self. I am frustrated by eyes that sag to tell folks of my tired burdens. So I’ll glue false eyelashes to my slick skin and … Continue reading ‘This is Not My Happly Place’
Alabama, 2019
Five months far along in the full belly of May; it was a tongue-in-cheek spring, a true false spring, a spring of myth and sick jokes; they tore us out from inside of ourselves with no sense of irony, they laughed in the face of the choices we make, stealing and trading them for indignities … Continue reading Alabama, 2019
Stranded sandwich
I can finish this meal entire, leave you only crumbs for company. It's how I was raised. To make not find room for each deserted morsel in this whisper of a belly. To never leave a sandwich stranded, erect refugee camps in pockets of flesh. Soon I'll balloon with the weight of what this temple … Continue reading Stranded sandwich
‘journey to the center of me’
In the dip of my suspension bridge heart lies a letter to my next incarnation; it reads: The problem of Time is solved by becoming, we are Lodged between beginnings like foodstuff in our teeth. May they seek earthly things like spices and the scent of green. May their harrowed orbits unravel and lay flat … Continue reading ‘journey to the center of me’
‘The Hangover House’
This is the Hangover House It reeks of tuna and a lack of talent Psychedelic paint peeling to reveal the resentful mold that festered for years We forgot to wake up, bad timing, oh well Here, at the House, time's a lofty old riddle; the only false constructs are the failing foundations, and if walls … Continue reading ‘The Hangover House’
‘this took all summer to write’
The year Tony died, my bad luck found me Raided my hideout with a SWAT team Threatened my family and looted the place I gave them my Dignity, wrapped in silver and flesh, I gave them my Soul, I gave them my Name Nothing came of it but bad ideas I found new bones in … Continue reading ‘this took all summer to write’
‘that old town’
When I think of that old town One night sticks out, foggy and dull like the overcast sky on a hill, on a night with no sleep and no stars, I watch the spread of the city and its twinkling lights, and place myself at a distance from every single one and everyone at once … Continue reading ‘that old town’
‘Tracy’
The same walls have called my name, in a roundabout way, millions of times But I’ve tried to stifle it, pursue silence from where I stand in the middle of the room I’ve lived in the same town’s only intersection for millions of years, in a matter of speaking keeping my broken left foot steady … Continue reading ‘Tracy’
