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This is something I wrote for a fashion company I worked for that made me wear. * The future is a shaky present, a blowback to a past that is either forgotten accidentally or otherwise never digested fully. It’s a never-ending nowhere, a hope to put a flag onto a land that has no country. … Continue reading
looking at you and i closed speaking in tongues must i swallow this memory too the timely teaching of your name the dripping of that thick life down your chin where each slippery morning there is still rot somewhere a fresh breaking that can be heard over the horizon and the relatable gulp of that … Continue reading
Dear dear, I am not good at making friends. Most of the time, I make it only about it myself, about my faulty focus, about how I am doing this new thing, how I don’t want everyone to know but listen to all this unknown, how even now in this tumbling self-centered supposed selflessness, I … Continue reading
and the lump is a throat is a life who will say that one should never strain their neck for muscles connect to bone and bone connects to milk and you can be powerful son you can block out the sky if you drink enough of that tall tale night blankets the room in … Continue reading
if the iliad must begin with rage, then i must admit that our age is not so peaceful either. there are people who have told me they hate me in a language i do not understand, and on some days, would not want to. dogs who shit in my steps. tea kettles which will burn … Continue reading
down down that lonely road pruned with the stale blood of the cold cats already struck on the street why is it that i must fall in love with the moon and the unreachable they come for the fences first bold barriers to people like me those who will select the right perfect … Continue reading
Dear dear, These were the holidays. Such is a banal, limp sentence, an obviousness that would knowingly ignite even the most unaware moth. Yet it is blindingly true. These were the holidays. These were the gasps of us among the giving dishes, the bony fish, the dogs that do not feel like the dogs we … Continue reading
Dear dear, In nine months, I am happy to be the first to present to you a healthy, though squawking birth, a weird congratulation for the act of insemination of a thing that is meant to be more than a thing, a failed bird, a busted egg, an omelet if the bird-part sticks faster than … Continue reading
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