Guest Host
Diya Chaudhuri
George Strait’s in this poem now, he’s meddling
with everything. He’s reading words
with the wrong inflections, making me older
than I know how to be. He wants Texas in here;
[defend
George Strait’s in this poem now, he’s meddling
with everything. He’s reading words
with the wrong inflections, making me older
than I know how to be. He wants Texas in here;
[defend
Remember being mammalian in the friar patch?
Remember your best reserve for slattern hells?
Remember being mammalian?
This gizmo stuck in my fuss like a picnic,
I turned my head so fast / I mistook the moon / for a firework / and then I wanted // to bark too...
& I am in this seat / doing the yeoman’s work / of relocating, of settling / for Florida’s budburst protocol // when I’d rather be on my back / in Arkansas or Illinois, Alabama...
All the money is wet & gummy / underneath the brightest pink trees. / They fade to breast cancer color when it rains.
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 the stairs
in 1984 I thought everything existed as light
in
Suddenly I want to be the one to leave a party.
Maybe life imitates art after all.
Love is like a museum. You have to look around, experience things, and then leave.
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