Four Nicknames and a Uterus

Desi wiped sweat all over the front of his white shirt as I scream about how hot the pavement is – and he hates it – the word pavement. It reminds him of being in his 20’s, when the woman he loved fucked their mutual friend in their home in their bed more than once….

Post and Rail

I had a dream we were strangers,          a dream we were neighbors partitioned by a farm, I held my daughter and watched you through post and rail, planting flowers – your knees buried in the soil          Filled with soul and sun, sorting your grown daughters old clothes…

Henry VIII

How little do I speak – how quiet am I? I communicate in repetition but I deliver discourse in another language, my history does not connect to you and you lose the chemistry of my intention as you sleep, Sleep, every drop of alcohol in this house, Pass by me, as your ears fill with lavender…

H.M.T.H.Y.D.T.W

How many times have you died this week? Suddenly I saw it, midway down the street, seven shots of forget-me-nots bottled in his hands – I cannot convince you to delegate disaster, or divide us into two separate people, or prevent whatever is about to occur when I watch you snort electric Kool-Aid for the…

Blood Orange

His face is a fistful of oranges. I enter           an apostrophe where the curve of his nose should be – a swarm of flies from the blood pooling in his cupids bow, a hive of bees stealing glances from his pelvis, Why are you so honey? I ask him as if…

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…