Every day, a fresh new/ strain of Hell reveals itself

You borrow words from platforms you could never build Borrow morals from a party gone sour

The questions piled up so high I thought I'd neverget through the door.The ease of alcohol, the incline of submission. Guttural sounds and spittle.Wipe down the morning afterwith a shower.Redress in last night's clothes.There's coffee if you want it.Sincerity too -no,…

Once, in the past or future, but definitely not in the present, I worked as a transportation minister for a friendly dictator, whose name was neither Hitler, nor Stalin, nor Kim Jong-Un, but whose mustache was toothbrush, whose smile was sardonic to the p

I I I I

Last night as a duration spent hovering in electronic media-space.

the birth of a long, dark age// where the wealthy will be eaten by the poor/ and the poor will be eaten by disease

"Lately I've been thinking a baby's the only way I might be able to hang on to you."

One must be drenched in words.

All this broken glass in the road Tells the longest story l have ever told Of how you lost your life and I my love And how you still go wandering above I don't know how I can return To the planet where we used to thrive Along this broken

Reams of saggy bunting intersect the streets.

You drink in women's bodies, without reserve. You take a sip at the post office, a gulp at the gym, a teensy taste when we walk together. Tonight you even indulged as we were looking for a parking spot and passed some twenty-somethings, then followed up w

What the tumbler meant

The young man is back again, solo,

weep or go stark mad your amanuensic fool will bury your words