/we are only two people, endless on a monday evening, some distant radio singing gray static, and like one-winged flies we search in circles of ignorance – swearing that the ocean is just spit, that the air will hold us if we decide to jump. /instead: no one saves you,  your expired body turn to… Read More shred

Content Warning: One possible interpretation of this poem could point to an eating disorder It was nice, getting to know my bones. The way my ribs stuck out like a handshake. The way my hips knew not to comment, just to stay and fight. Knuckles and collarbone, white like a dream: that was how I… Read More 9-18

Walter Water’s migraine led him to tears. He’d laid down, listened to an hour’s worth of whalesong, swallowed pink pills whole with happy juice; then went out into the garden, where the rampant swimming pool sent turquoise shocks, alert, intact, mercilessly across his beating brain. Poor Walter winced, went inside again, waited upright for relief… Read More Walter Water's Migraine

I just want to expel something terrific. Unterrible, unlike the foul bile silt spit from my lips in the iHop bathroom Late night, early morning kitty corner from the bar in which the reckless youths of affiliation bend and mash toward one another like polarized magnetic opposites ripped apart by the slow degradation of intellectual… Read More I just want to expel something terrific