3 o'clock
I want to tell you
all about the lonesome
figure dancing
on the edge
of my eye,
but when I turn,
I see you
’ve fallen off,
too.
Steven O. Young Jr....
Cistern
In every raindrop,a ghost.
In every ghost,a throat,
emptied. What drains:a body, tide by
tide—appetite,then thirst.
Air scissors throughto trickle.
Her current runsthrough me,
then salt
in my mouth, ears.In every...
Little Knife
After Keorapetse Kgositsile
All childlike tenderness, and slender flesh
worked to a toughness like stone. Muscles
like rolling hills, scenes
Schumann could find
no solace in. We made...
harvest
my father stops calling me honeybecause boys are not sweet
they are gravel spilling out of open mouthson the playground
and when i start looking more...
