To be led by the engine of empire...

Promise to not assume that this is the one and only truth about my feelings for Liz. I had this recurring dream of me devouring her.

I can show you the double-rimmed chain-netted concrete court where I taught myself it was okay to aspire.

There was still nailpolish on her toes and fingers.

 I walk around the trailer park that has been dropped on top of a small hill like it’s just bird shit on a windshield. The boy with ‘Mama Tried’ tattooed underneath his eyes and ‘Country Fried’ inscribed above them got shot through the heart in the smallest trailer in Hogwaller. 

A two week notice.

The streets are empty. The bars are less full. 

From the long wooden balcony, from the house that overlooks a forest that is almost bluegreen in springtime and a witchy red during the fall, the snow slants through the trees like a new

geometry,

In 1644 John Weston, age thirteen or sixteen, depending on the source, stowed away.

“You’re crafty and wise,” the quiz’s benevolent gods tell me.

On the road ... 

Fill the latex body all the way through.

Twice, my friend was flashed as a child.

For you who shone under the blue lights

I saw her at a campus TGIF three weeks ago. Talking Gender Issues Fridays. It’s a weekly chat-session where students come to look at the week’s current events through a gender lens. The campus used to be single-sex, but now we call it gender inclusive. We were going out of business; there are only so many radical lesbian 17 year olds, and most of them already get into Smith. 

Strike up a conversation with other cars you meet

Tortellini becomes my password for everything.

Her guardian came from glory.

Damn.
Kendrick Lamar
April 14, 2017
Top Dawg
54:54

The first time I visit Southern California, it’s for work. I get lost out of LAX and wind up toting my luggage around Inglewood- the

The river, the river, the river. 

On Friday at school, we were all vibrating, so nervous for what came next. We barely listened in class because what did it matter? We wouldn’t be around to turn in the homework that would be due on

sentences are donuts bursting with believability custard

It’s Saturday night, and I am cleaning the kitchen because it’s easier than cleaning up my life; I am putting away dishes because I know where dishes go. I do not know where to put other things:

How grand it would be if Jedi Temples were Papaya Monuments.

Imagine if McGregor were a woman, I’d wonder throughout the day, as I sifted through the barrage of emails from my boss, all his reminders to cc him the next time I sent this or that, the notifications that he’d be leaving early again as I stayed late. Imagine McGregor in an office. Imagine him…or her, aged a bit past her prime. How would she prep for a fight? What would it be like to be a woman like her?

That place where mystery pukes