Britney’s People

Britney is a crystal swan born from a cave where they manufacture crystal swans. Britney’s People are her protectors. No people are as important as Britney’s People because it is

My mother is a GODDESS

frick park @ night
the stag runs away from me
chooses instead the busy thoroughfare
lesser of two evils i guess
smoking the disfigured joint
Margaret rolled me i wrap

Fragrance

I never lost what I had out of eye    the piano minded surplus or acheless weather    what ever the
          night still oily with a personality is          there is no sense         

CRYSTAL THINKING

Dream logic gets my sober companion drunk
Vomiting silver in the private beehive of our wagon
I went to the cemetery and played you a too-fast solo
Mud seeped in the ass of my

"Utterance of a Folding Fan" and "Op. 64 in C#"

"Three Boys" and "Phone Sex"

Paying even one out of six subway swipes / still feels wrong...

"Peak Inertia" and "You don't know if you should laugh at my poems"

On my first job I worked for a woman named Jeanie who owned a soda fountain, thrift store, and tavern. I worked at the soda fountain fixing milk shakes and simple sandwiches for the few customers that

the sun sees Icarus & tries to shift...

"signals," "stars," and "notes"

I had someone once. He spoke the Queen’s English, lived in a house built by timber hewn from his property. We were layman lovers, easily able to make cracks about the poverty of the crescent moon but

I know in heaven they are unlimited and free...

"Tight coils come / up floating in / my husband's peppermint..."

We can't feel how fast we're falling...

"Rebuilding the Colossus" and "Ardor"

DID NOT SEE

NOT THAT ONE!

SEE? 

COMING! 

DIDN'T ONE? 

HOW DID YOU GET STARTED IN THIS WORK?

In this story I am meant to tell you of the men I met in parking lots. It is night and it is will be raining, though I do not know the science behind the

             after Ruby/Hilary 

For just 
fifteen seconds

out of my twenty-
six years living

I imagine 
myself 

a white woman

bones breaking
in a new way

my

if it were untrue, I might have been
less mad; I am the best of drivers

tiger mother, paper tiger, full
of slant, piss and vinegar

that occasion of our first big fight,
he connoted with a

two seasons of sabrina,
the teenage witch
under my belt
i’m feeling powerful

i sign on AIM after 9pm
dial up noises are wands
just a secret crush

it’s always nice,
talking to you,

Cliché

I’m your favourite cliché.
Go ahead – 
  paint a red dot on my forehead,
    push it like a button,
      wrap me in a sari,
        round and round I go.
Make sure it’s
  – bright

it’s hard to explain how tired I feel       each day
my autoimmune disease attacking my bones
at the hip joint and spine       I limp down the hall

to the water fountain where I joke but am

let us use the Fibonacci sequence to understand
why 10 coffins became boats atop the surface of Alum Creek on Christmas Eve

and why Mamaw spent all of 2015 saying bell-bottoms were coming