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But she knew what she would find. She knew it all the moment she felt the sticky fingerprints behind the slat of her old oak slay bed. The fingerprints that would only be left from a person grabbing it from behind their head. The fingerprints that she
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110554
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before your full lips touch
mine.
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118001
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She overcomes herself on the day of the spectacle, clown paint, unmoving amid a rumble of trains and screens, video logs and snapshots, live blogs from phones wet with lotion. This is Tokyo. Facial masks. Bare flaking paint in streams. Stardust.
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89100
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I am brave, I am sexy, I am strong
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113420
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Rose, silence her desire when she, in this moment of desire, has passed into the grey and dawdles in the margins of such a hurtful unconventionality. Bend her astray from such a becoming. It would be a horror show: intimate, endless, and bloody, just the
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30265
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Your name is a word that means everything at once.
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110100
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Her fever spreads through lines of a plaid mini, over burnt milk, darkened to yellow. Fingers explore fabric folds up and into the lost dimensions of logic.
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11610
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Those nights of using crickets chirping as our lullaby
as we laid on the soft grass, feeling weightless;
our heads vacant of thoughts, but our hearts never more full.
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102000
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Ships tumble, cars crash, horns gulp water, bombs burst up from the ground in a halo of screams.
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9454
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On witnessing the community of harvest, and the weird orange of the dirt roads, the gridded stretch of farm meeting forest, the soft barrel-shapes found in the fields and barns and clouds alike, the animal scents trailing off the free-roaming herds, and t
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109700
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Rosey streaks through the city, dragging a flooded umbrella.
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who can quite say/when careless talk & confidence/slips into that other charged thing/so minimal at first
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122562
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The night is a jelly slosh, a fertile rumble, a rhumba, black and seeping, thick. An arm rises.
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32061613
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I'd kill a gas attendant in Playa Del Mar.
You'd read stained romance novels in motel rooms, while I oiled the gun and laughed on the phone, to no one.
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440
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We drove through the night in that old green car, all the way from New Orleans. The road was your mother, your father was the sky. I tried to sleep in the back seat, only to be awakened as you swerved from side to side, planting firecrackers in tin mailboxes. You lit…
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