All the money is wet & gummy / underneath the brightest pink trees. / They fade to breast cancer color when it rains.

  Where Bullet Breaks Come– See where Bullet broke Brother, see where I break where we split into before and... more

  Saw a dog today on my way to the bar that made me wish we hadn’t put Eileen to sleep, but then it was on to meet... more

Look at me falling in love with fallible bodies.
Look at me performing emotional labor...

  A Preamble to an Explanation of You It was like I worked in a Popsicle factory but had never tasted the color red. I... more

  Sticky Fingers Mick Jagger I want you to pry the top off this maple syrup for me while I flip the pancakes—I... more

  poem in the morning this farmer's tan is not going to go away all by itself but what can i do about it? go to... more

  After a Late Night Outcall (Creepy Enough to Care) my feet are so warm I shouldn't have worn my felt boots I... more

 to the right of my heart a button ° if you see the button press deeply into me I am shining brilliantly on my way down... more

again andy is crying.
all the days he is crying.

  An Interview #1 Vibe Magazine: Why haven’t you shot yourself in the head? Aaliyah: My mother sits in her padded... more

if I were an Amish girl,
I would leave
for Rumspringa...

Glissade, pas de bourrée. I stole a bottle of Cointreau from mother’s liquor cabinet

In the dream you are not a lamb on fire.

Suddenly I want to be the one to leave a party.
Maybe life imitates art after all.

Today
I was at McDonald’s
and there was this chunky,
high school-aged kid...

I know the scars of my grandfather do you. I know the guns in my pelvis do you...

later, an iguana slinked up the steps in a macho, prehistoric way...

You must imagine god as syrupy mist.

You imagine you’re a tipping point wrapped in a synthetic summer dress.

None of us have those cats who go
viral meowing Springsteen songs...

Night comes in a slow bloom of abandon.

Have you ever seen a rich person?
It's not like that movie about rich people–

Then there’s the Schnabel:
Some colors and Adieu...

This poem is about death and, to some extent, life.