





What I’m Reading:
“My kind of Sunday, your knees
buffalo and kicking up plains.”
— Arisa White / “Curious and Counting”






What I’m Reading:
“My kind of Sunday, your knees
buffalo and kicking up plains.”
— Arisa White / “Curious and Counting”

Traveling sorts her memories.
Driving to Miami sharpens
her father’s voice—like acid
catalyzing in her ears boring
a ragged chute to her amygdala—
simultaneously black-holing her backward
and shooting her into an uncertain future
full of Get to Know Jesus and Get Your Guns
& Ammo Here billboards. She fights.
She flees from all her ghosts. She barrels
south—under the heat dome.
Tobacco leaves yellow—corn browns & withers—in her wake.

What I’m Reading:
“Nothing besides remain. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The line and level sands stretch far away.”
— Percy Bysshe Shelley / “Ozymandias”

The Fear Contagion:
Taking Control. Stockpiling.
She feels better now.

What I’m Reading:
“. . . Violence is done and history
records it. Gold ruins us. Men ruin us.”
— Ada Limón / “How We See Each Other”

You brought a felon backbone to the party. You panned the bouffant directory to the left
speakers and no longer backclothed the swish sultanas. You are indecent with your handcart ducklings, dripping wet florins, and praise-wet stampedes—your sister-in-law dirging past her dowry. You shave the filigree off handgun duds and clutter my late summer lunar eclipse with pinhole boxes and 3-D glasses. You fill me with inertia at 10:32 as the moonshine wanes and the penumbra fills my heart.

What I’m Reading:
“We’ve become accustomed to an impoverished planet.”
— David Attenborough / A Life on Our Planet
i didnt stop thinking
i just stopped writing for the day
before my mind caught wind
of my lack of a post
so i went to florida—
or i planned on going
to florida—
and all i got were these . . .
lousy videos
What I’m Reading:
“Just yesterday, a park ranger from Michigan admitted that he sometimes leaves cutlets of raw salmon near campsites, hoping to see a bear.”
— Tess Gunty / The Rabbit Hutch

pound hippo tamer
bizarre verbal tapestry
fuzzbox high stepper
she stomps the wah wah pedal
at the event horizon

What I’m Reading:
“I smell something soupish, sour and dank and it’s
filled with weeds like rough
cat tongues…”
— Diane Seuss / “backyard song”

“Reading this book reminded me of watching a cat lick a dog’s eye goo.”
— Dwight Garner, review of Jared Kushner’s Breaking History / The New York Times
“She attaches her gaze to the machines, obviously longing for a return to the standard script, which demands nothing of strangers in public spaces but the exchange of a few half-smiles, to indicate that you won’t knife each other.”
— Tess Gunty / The Rabbit Hutch
“The planet has warmed by about 1 ° C since we began burning coal on an industrial scale and average temperatures are on track to rise by as much as four times that amount before the century is up; the last time there was this much carbon dioxide in the atmosphere, humans didn’t exist.”
— Naomi Klein / On Fire: The (Burning) Case for a Green New Deal
“A child born in 2020 will face a far more hostile world than its grandparents. Compared with someone lucky enough to be born in 1960, one study estimates that–on average–they will experience seven times more heatwaves, twice as many droughts and three times as many floods and harvest failures . . . Looking at the broader picture, anyone younger than 40 today will suffer ever more frequent bouts of extreme weather that would be virtually impossible in the absence of global heating.”
— Bill McGuire / Hothouse Earth: An Inhabitant’s Guide
“When God gives you more than you can tolerate, you turn to instinct. And instinct is a force beyond anyone’s control.”
—Ottessa Moshfegh / Lapvona
“The future isn’t cast into one inevitable course. On the contrary, we could cause the sixth great mass extinction event in Earth’s history, or we could create a prosperous civilization, sustainable over the long haul. Either is possible starting from now.”
— Kim Stanley Robinson / Guernica
“He wears his testosterone like a strong cologne.”
— Tess Gunty / The Rabbit Hutch

What I’m Listening To:
“So typically now
I sent you an image
You sent me a thumb down”
— U.S. Girls / “So Typically Now”

One strong throat emerges to tell the straitjacket-story of a gifted and complicated mandible:
Her despots are both deeper and weirder—splooting rib-deep on American fangs. Her handguns—blue steel euphonies—flexible, transcend fanfare fortifications.
Her epistles rifle in candid installments. Her work seamless on the paintbrush—especially on maxims of broiler politicians about to lift-off, gerrymandered igloo divots, and ferret interiority. The most passionate voice ever on the matter.
Her pantoums never show properly on the third Tuesday of the month—on lesser tongues they sound tinny and pedantic—rhyme schemes rhizome into the fallow earth.
She is thee chaplain-malingerer: tormentor of numbskull litanies and bittersweet honesties. She is the genuine curve. The careful reproof. A committee of candid insteps not bound to overpronation.
She is an amphetamine throwback that emerges without deficits—a profound tonal restoration.
She is a healthy octave above will.

What I’m Reading:
“When I say ‘man,’ I mean ‘mankind,’ ” explains Moses.
“Your speech is codified in patriarchal microaggressions.”
— Tess Gunty / The Rabbit Hutch

I was conceived in the cold heat
Of the late stage Anthropocene.
My mother’s milk was curanga pie.
I am a born again pleonasm—
Aphasic—ecstatic in static,
Mendicant in white noise.
I am obscenely petulant,
Vaguely touched,
Piqued & hot
With fleas.
Endless
Not.

What I’m Reading:
“Hers is the kind of presence that registers as an absence.”
— Tess Gunty / The Rabbit Hutch


What I’m Reading:
“I was a flurry of atoms.
I was a disassembled spark.
I desired impression.”
— Landan Osman / “Sun to Void”