How they stabbed me and got away with it!

I guess my approach is not to take myself too seriously, which sounds kind of dumb and obvious, and just to write the sort of book I most like to read, which is usually something heavy but also light on its feet, fast-paced and horny, and generally not too full of itself.

Sometimes they say, You can’t really teach someone to write a poem, in which case you might answer, Well,
not you.

Our lovemaking is a demilitarized zone.

i don’t think there will be booze
for sale, the style writer says, 
because it’s a synagogue

in the midst of a historic crisis, i ride my bike to the river

I vomited
up a prophecy in a dive bar,
inhaling hot dogs.

I can tell she’s not convinced. But I’ve been Googling symptoms: confusion, nausea, loss of appetite, changes in sleep patterns, visual hallucinations, erratic behavior.

Drainage stains. Snow turns to shivering rain. The rear facing concrete walls.

waylon in the kitchen
pancakes
the pain of a tattoo gun on ribs 

“you’re bad at finishing beverages that aren’t alcoholic,” you told me

writing fiction in which people google things,
suffering in a very abstract way
trying very hard to shut the fuck up & failing

You must stop dating
physicists, that sere barnacling across
the cold, leeward faces of rocks.

At the head of the conference table sat a man scrolling on his phone, whom Michael intuited was the leader of this secret society. 

I finger a ring of keys and wonder what doors they might unlock.

It’s a sin,
to desire different architecture, I’m told

in a cellar not far from here, wine waits years to peak
before a bottle is cracked open only to empty
a bruise.

Burying me # alive 
in training pants and # rags is my son’s 
# gift of sorts

Coolness is an anchor, a fortress, a cold and remote puritanism.

The other day she showed up at André’s apartment in the middle of the night with a red rose and, in the bottom of her purse, a steak knife...