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Nobody publishes poetry anymore and I am a no body publishing poetry to people like you and I am afraid to waste your time or that you’re hoping for something from me or worse yet is that you’re not and that you’re sick because I am and you are reading this insisting on a cure … Continue reading
I spoke to a dead guy and he said I’ve been waiting for you for a while now and I said how did you know I’d be coming and I flipped the page and he said I didn’t but I hoped and then I watched him die a second time * When I was younger … Continue reading
Dead fish swim near my feet, two people make out far away, a lifeguard blows a whistle over seagulls who avoid the dead fish and sweet couple and lifeguard and poop onto me just I was going to perform CPR on the fish to save it from drowning though I suppose oxygen is the least … Continue reading
Death will rattle so let’s breath fire to scare it away and leave smoke that lingers after we’re gone and after Death realizes we weren’t trying to burn away but instead trying to burn a way to something other than the ash we become * Salvation is a poor excuse and a whore of hope who … Continue reading
Sad steeped poems are the easiest; it’s much harder to write about eating cherries with your feet buried in sand and with a breath of yellow on your diaphragm like a cat around your legs purring as you move against a towel that wraps you in sleep and wakes you up later with the help … Continue reading
I heard there was a poem written that can cure death but I don’t remember how it goes or who wrote it or if it really ever ended, if it just continued and continued even here and in the next and the next until there is no more, but I suppose there always will be … Continue reading
The sun climbs over one mountain just to put shade on another peak. * He was twelve when he died which is better than eleven so I guess he could be happy but I was twelve and a bit so I was pretty sad looking at him with his hair unhair like his lips unlip like … Continue reading
Her stomach blurts out something onto my elbow while she scratches below like an itch and the night listens to how our bodies moan as day rushes to peek at us too * This is the end so let’s at least pretend we’re excited as we were in the beginning while we barter over an organ … Continue reading
Met this kid who asked why I looked the way I looked and I said it’s cause I wanted to look the way I looked and he said it wasn’t much to look at and I saw myself for the first time, though I had to look away. * You’re a poet so you should … Continue reading
It was just a mistake, which I suppose all things are like how I’m holding her hand with my fingers loose around her knuckles the way an innocent man grips onto an electric chair as she adds that that was a mistake too, which I suppose all things are like the uncontrolled splatter she sits … Continue reading
Mizpellt wurdz 