How Do I Explain This To a Therapist

How do I explain this to a therapist? I live with the proclivity to vindicate your mouth and nullify blame for how the planes folded over our atoms. The long lost father     husband     devirginizer     murderer — soulmate manifested from the macrocosm of sadistic axiom. Rainier to Olympus. Alki to…

What Kind of Hands Did The Monster Grow

What kind of hands did the monster grow. A royal flush, peaches and blush blooming epiphanies from the wrinkles in his palms, the desperate twitch of a boy sitting alone and naked in a cold bathtub swallowing soap and scraping food from his nails with loosened baby teeth, begging for his parents attention as they’re…

Proserpina

The blood of old idioms climb my suffering like ivy / feral words that slide from my mouth sound just like you, impersonating the vernacular of your curiosity which trigger how forcefully you squeeze your fingertips into my fossilized knees / you whispered my thighs once belonged to Proserpina I flee from your dirty hair,…

Six Stories

Your lung collapsed outside on the balcony, eleven cigarettes in seventeen hours – the mirrored bathroom that gave you anxiety had to be concealed by duct tape stolen from the sex bag of operatic role-play we carry with us to every hotel. You couldn’t look at your nose anymore, or feet     all deliberate…

Overcoming Writer’s Block

As most writers can tell you, inspiration is fleeting. Many of us go through intervals where our creative inspirations weave in and out – which can leave you feeling like you aren’t a true artist all because you can’t create on demand – which is total bullshit. In my opinion, there isn’t really a measure…

If a Woman Wants to Vanish

If a woman wants to vanish                   she can Abolish the fetish of skin, to skin, to skin Contact                dematerialize a softened puff That sterilizes her lips, fingernails spreading fig &                  …

Alive, Lie, Legend

Your death is louder All hail the helling of bells, barrage of spinster Spiking coffee with morphine, and no one Can hear it  – your death is louder – like lozenge, Louder like bullshit-banter-baculum-brat-buccina, Louder like sun, louder like you have been fawning For breeding, like Tiny Dancer, louder like gorging on Irish spring soap,…

The Orwells

I watch how you are made. sedated to The Orwells slurring syllables In a bluesy baritone, the inflamed postules of your dry mouth are imbedded with the nucleus or my grainy elbows on which you gnaw in reflex                      like a dog in heat, like aswelling spatial star engulfed in oxygen, the way you kiss is…

He’s my Collar

What is this secret persona that you sing about?  The garbage kitchen you squall in, old songs you regurgitate  for microphones and strangers, the name given to you and  the way you miss the inflection of my voice when I say it incorrectly, Not a single person knows you the way that I do,  and…

Mari

Mari does not know what a painting does but dissolves into your head until you are seeing you seeing you tongue palette knife, the lovers – & arms she orchestrated – & reversed, rather be red with rain – & thrown into boiling earth not condemning competency to earshot odd oblong geriatric artificial afro bike…