The middle finger talks of many things How I killed the moon But still drank the moonshine And how getting over her took Some bleeding from the soul Maybe it’s the Inner Face of Outer Space That worries me the most But what about the Fro

‎" You know, the cure is not worse than the disease" Leon said to his therapist for the fifth time.

Once a week the kids at school got ice cream and popsicles. You didn’t, you never had ice cream money.

A tattered bird had a made a tomb in tepid water, it was a puddle near the framework of a half-built room— but the soul's a swerving tunnel and the dead are waiting at the end: all sorts of animals huddled at the fringe where littered pine needles stand and creep…

The only time Terry and I came close to fucking, when she was still underage, I mean, was once when I went to see her at somebody’s apartment where she was baby-sitting. She invited me over to have pizza, I think. Of course, I brought beer. And we start

—and the god presiding over all / a four-faced, double-Janused clock / its equal seconds clickt away / ticking us our steps and breaths . . .

"...regurgitating double A's all akimbo."

Ordonez gives me a look that speaks a volume–Volume 4 of the Encyclopedia Americana, Birmingham to Burlington, which includes the subject of bullfighting.

Barred from hotel bars and restaurants because you drank too much, you won the prizes but seemed to disdain the people who gave them.

It’s okay if you do

I don’t know how the nights can be so long when life is so short. Can you tell me that? I always thought you were maybe fooling around a bit when we met, with that evasive bull about your initials on that brandy snifter, with that JAM person! I ju

I charm as any stone-sculpted dream: / men grind themselves to dust on my breasts / in solitude poets spill and spew / enraptured of my adamant clay.

“Why don’t you dump Mr. Fitness here and give one of us a chance?” a mouse says. “I wouldn’t fuck you for practice,” she says sharply.

p

“You know this is your death car.”