Tag Archives: Poetry

unable to moor

Day of the Drill He hadn’t so much lived these 33 years in a daydream as much as he felt that there’d always been a scrim between him and the world. Everything was seen and felt at a slight remove. … Continue reading

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this moment desiccated

Etiolated (redux) Your voice echoes through the ages — as if from the depths of dry amphora. Pushcarts and tumbrils full of the dregs of the failed american experiment. A skim of cream and a puff of smoke are equal … Continue reading

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happen to know

Overheard Convos at an Event U R Glad U Missed I have not challenged myself in that manner in two years… So what does serendipity mean? … and she was like so hush, hush. It was so embarrassing. I think … Continue reading

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at the edges

(bedbugs and barnacles) bedbugs and barnacles on the side of the bed—on this side of dread. no one understands the special relationship. no one really cares. the water laps up to the edge of the bedsheets at 3:32 every morning. … Continue reading

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you become poetry

The Best Stuff I Read This Week “Writing is impossible … Maybe it’s hopeless … But oh, god, at least it isn’t not writing.” — Sarah Gailey / “Pep Talk from Sarah Gailey” “the idea that writing is easy comes … Continue reading

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time to cure

Guiding the Peeps in Ur Head (blackout # 11.4.22) Today you will require additional timeto cure. Therefore we ask people to use the lowerdoor to enter the upperdoor. Access will return to normaltomorrow. Apologizefor the inconvenience. What I’m Reading: “Creativity … Continue reading

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be free be

Impingements A stomach churning invasion of impingements on the ears and the inner alcoves of the cranium. Akin to a machine spitting out screws ricocheting off the floors and tinkling in circles, in counterpoint, to the scraping of chairs and … Continue reading

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i’ll bring you

nightmare no. 630 (flecked haiku) some roads have puddlessome rivers are flecked with bloodi’ll bring you a glass What I’m Reading: “Allow no Christian ritualsfor this bitch, but, ifyou like, you might invitea homeless dog to sing…” — Sandra Cisneros … Continue reading

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a floating shadow

Squall I’m lost in a hanging garden.Dark hollows.Death in June songs.Someone humming:she said destroy in black New York…Is she humming it correctly?Get off that—What is correct?Who decides?Haven’t we been here before?Recently.So.I don’t detach from myself—but I am tethered to myself:A … Continue reading

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rejoice our dead

Celibates and Paraphiliacs (redux) Sustain yourself with necro-normative inclinations, make use of what you consume, trap your inner child in an iron maiden. Spend time with your inner critic’s internal monologues parsing the sections of your Id with a rusty … Continue reading

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