congealed bacon

i googled white nationalism—
flashes of congealed bacon

you play the tragic heroine
toothy femme fatale

dont judge my painting
until i finish my ropa vieja

dont cut your hair
before tinting it blue

i fix you a tongue on rye
my marbles gather dust

we wait for slide guitar solos
on an unmoored pontoon bridge

in darkness your voice
has the timbre of rime

the choice you say—love
love

is love

What I’m Reading:

. . . the world is always ending for each of us and if one begins to withdraw from the possibilities of experience, then no one would take any of the risks involved with love.

— Ben Lerner / 10:04