Once a story ends it can be owned.

look at me and how I just / sit around and fucking pout

The description stated that it needed to be handled with gloves, which was a little frightening for something that was supposed to be ingested.

We get quite hungry, you know, never touching the ground.

They called it the ‘tip of the spear.’ China in the east, North Korea not far.

If I tell you that my 76-year-old brother began using drugs when he was 14, you might guess what our relationship has been like over time.  And, if add that my parents always favored my brother,

On the anniversary of the worst day of my life I was finally able to let go of a burden I have been carrying for more than a year. I am free, I’m not fucking crazy, there is love in my heart, and sweet gentleness in my soul.

Spirals in the / Sky spray out eight billion cassette tapes / So anyone on any other planet might wit / Just how thin earthly love has withered.

She offered the poison on the tip of a spoon.

A couple months ago my mother and I had to dig up my grandmother's grave. I looked away from her face. My mother didn’t: her eye is gone, her skin is gone, and her mouth is a big hole.

I am trying to love the crook in my back.

Three months out of the year I get to file for unemployment. I swim, I paint, and I try not to fuck things up. I have a real tendency to fuck my life up.

If I got what I wanted I would actually be doing what I’d wanted to do all along, step inside not history, but living art itself. And for this I would undoubtedly be considered a bad mother—many easily burning me at the stake.

I have developed an awareness / Of my need to perform this fervor  / And what I thought was fear / Turned out to be excitement.  

The house’s cracked smile
hides behind spines of oak trees.

My girl smells like maple syrup and hay.

Her drink and legs they're everywhere. 

Fiction or nonfiction
Autofiction :)

i tell them of the violences endured / & how i began working here at 17. / five days later: no longer able to speak, / nor walk, frozen in stillness.

burrowed in my
fear like I was making a home of it.

Record-breaking heat today and tomorrow and tomorrow.

Open Windows
A Contrapuntal

The heat                                                                 here in Texas
is such to close                                     the heart and the rain; let

She was meditating with me / And eventually she was gone licked up by the surf / On a personal level, expressed in a fiction / That was the breadth of my loving and no thing more 

An interlocutor here, is always the audience.

The depression soon followed like a familiar friend who I had hoped to leave behind.

Writer you’d like to meet irl

I've met enough