I’ve mooned away my marriage, / grounded it, ripped the fuselage / in two, or is the better metaphor
to say I heard the countdown go / from ten to zero and didn’t even / try to stop my wife from breaking / the gravity of disaster planet me?

Some of space is made of diamond. / Some, of booze.

Field Notes in Haiku

I hear a giant
lives in a stardew valley
I follow the signs:

a knot... more

In this plastic bayou we’re not customers,
we’re guests. POPEYES GUEST 138,
YOUR ORDER IS READY. Guests, yes,
but also numbers—we’re not in Panera

you know me like an artifact

1

[meimei’s a meatness sis slug of blood boat the body tiger the teeth selfie tongue selfie chintilt selfie lilt her lily pucker... more

chew on that witya brainteeth!

mother moon stop calling me

Dogwood 

I knew the blossoms. I caught 
them all. My mother
won’t let me forget this.  
But really,... more

 between what is love and what is fixation of 

I live my life by white lies.
And poetry is white lies.
Second language is white lies too.
As well as the first.
But language is the... more

I engrave myself into the floor

what a creature I would make of myself if I were able
to be known to be close to anything to be grounded

as always, my resolution

is to get a Guns N’ Roses tattoo

//
i wish i
                    can fly
                    was in dixie
                    could quit
                    was on vacation
 ... more

I told you to stay right there and not move

Ten Thousand Lackluster Lakes

people always say, “i hear it rains a lot
over there,” as if nothing... more

LONG DISTANCE CUNNILINGUS 

hi near stranger 
I want to impale 
myself on you

you little... more

I know god is real because persimmons exist.

He paints using the ashes of the towers in his watercolors.

i mean, i was black before too.

The air before me
is the flavor of
an oat cake popsicle.
Or a shoe box. 
Or the water sports
I’m not doing. 
So I sign... more

Fifty cents for tickets in the bleachers—then. Fifty cents a railroad car to Pittsburgh.
A “marvel” they’d called it.... more

It was a slow curve—a big bender,
spinning against the trajectory
of the ball. It hung

Letterman wore khakis and the camera angled up his crotch. I watched every night or set my VCR to record on the rare occasion I left my apartment.