Three Poems
Fiona Helmsley
I kept my thoughts about Bitchface Becky to myself
but then Beyoncé did something magical
I kept my thoughts about Bitchface Becky to myself
but then Beyoncé did something magical
Bible | Vers
Top to Bottom | scan my profile | For Christ’s Sake | Sing Jesus’ Name | I gospel & apostle | Book of Vers | My rural bottom’s up | My crop /top | down along the road | a hym(n) in
There’s a song in my figurative head
that I can’t shake loose.
When I was a body,
I did so many things with my hands,
I can’t count.
Around here it smells like lightning,
like plasma.
All that whimpers isn’t want.
One spring, I pulled
a reed from an oboe.
I planted it by a pond.
Instantly, it grew
dense at the water’s edge.
The wind told lie after lie—
black
Morning gets angry and destroys a city
not New York, too obvious, but suppose
it’s on the coast. Suppose we’re the first to go
I picture Goya’s Colossus and my empathy
runs threadbare. Suppose
in response to a student evaluation for a science fiction class, Fall 2018
Student, it’s true—I prefer women
to lentils, to crossfit classes,
to retirement plan
Goats and cows’ dreams have little pull yet. Cheese
is still cheese, piston driven milkers likely painful. The future
of sirloin strips it of skin, legs, bones, grown without
the cortex of
{All I Wanted Was Everything}
You say you know the reason why Archimedes
We ate dinner with our heads down masticated silence Mom slathered hot sauce on everything including Dad’s words and the ones he didn’t say lips spraying consonants vowels dribbling down his chin i
after Britney Spears
The camera pans—is this still
Mars? Oops. Gloss-
lip. Oops. Long-lashed eyes
gazing between the scraps.
Guttural purr. Oops I.
Did. It. Again. White girl
Dear Naomi,
Please find enclosed some clippings from the local fishwrapper. I’ve underlined the juicy parts in blue pencil. It’s complete kleptocracy down here. You were right to leave. I can’t
Amoral Impurity
Picking at ingrown
pubes on the porch swing
in the sun on the first
summery day of May
and the dogs reach up to lick
my cooch. This is not
the first time today I’ve
I vomit discretion, magic tricks, a glass ashtray. I take a break
from vomiting & light a bottle rocket.
I crave the lack of my thousand siblings...
I am lonely and just learning how to say I'm lonely...
"My Favorite Hat," "Blue Hawaii Hat," and "Rust is a Color, the Tech Sergeant Told Me"
Love is like a museum. You have to look around, experience things, and then leave.
"I loved reading Exit, Carefully. It’s unusual, and in my opinion exciting, to publish a play without previously receiving a major production."
-Walker Caplan, Lithub