The Fall To the first girl I ever kissed, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have, but the rum and Coke tasted so good on your tongue. I’m sorry, too, that my hands were not soft against your skinny calves, crossed at … Read More
“This snowfall is my final fantasy. Once America the woman was coming on my dick, her flag pin a pinhole to a world without strife. But then—” he sneezes. “Let me begin again. Terrorism. The weeping willow lowers her hair … Read More
I’m going to paint the walls of this room over. They’re old now and they clash with the décor. But the days are short and there’s no light, no tarps, no plastic covers And I’m sure I’ll get drippings on … Read More
My father’s father sold tombstones door to door, with lines from dime novels like _this is a just reward_. I met my just reward when I sold father’s tombstone for a whore. I recited lines from novels as she gave … Read More
When the girl sings, I see the strings in her voice the velvety tendrils, winding and fluttering the spaces between us trembling with crimsons shuddering with saffrons blazing with the teal of Sunday church bells I never doubt the clarity … Read More
1. Waiting are they? Let them wait. This is the last of the earth! Codeine. . .bourbon, I am Content. It’s just that I can’t sleep. Boats are knocking, boats against the past. I worry. Don’t let poor Nelly starve: … Read More
It’s not the perfect photo, this latest of you and me. The light is bad, grainy and too-dark, but the pub was small and mirrored and just what I’d imagined when I’d imagined England. We smile just the same as … Read More
And a shriek was heard And the flowers of blood Began to drip blood And all the flowers Began to drip blood And the enormous crowd Came to collect the blood And all things dripped blood And the sun grew … Read More
Remember, my soul, the thing we saw That soft summer morning: At the turn in the path, upon a bed of scattered stones, A carcass lying raw. Like a woman in lust with its legs in the air Burning and … Read More
The case for Anne Carson’s _Nox_ might begin with its box (that’s not binding): grey with white binding (that’s not binding) and a single silver sliver, in which stands a boy diver on grass maybe forty summers ago, wearing superhero … Read More