Spooked by his softness, he fled to the forest.
How neither of us/were made to debut in the kitchen out of our own/physical hunger, except if you believe grief too has a growl,/has a belly.
reminded of studying her bruises in poetry seminars
yes I would date myself not only would I date myself
tears melting down the drain let’s play something i can sway to
learned to skin a memory and string my left lung with its still warm guts
hiding sincerity behind faux sincerity
To begin issue 1, an anonymous valentine.
Because I was never good at staying sober, / I chase highs in laundromats, the things I do / for heavy brass soil horn need hot wash, lavender / lemonade
A fact, or a circumstance, of abuse, depending on which way the glass cuts your vision: if a child experiences a significant amount of trauma, early and consistent enough, the images that make up their experiences, dreams, visions, fantasies, abuse, and nightmares become a kind of kaleidoscopic mosaic.