January 18, 2021
Hunger
She did not like dark rain, the scent of snow, the heavy curtains blocking day's light. She wanted open windows. Freshness, the breath of God and…
January 12, 2021
Always Someone Worse Off
My baby was early. Ill was the pregnancy, but not so ill that panic was stricken upon the faces of the midwifery team. My baby was early. She broke…
January 11, 2021
“Untitled,” “Inexorably,” and “If I Were to Wander”
Untitled I: The Gates of the Sun An icy hand takes mine “Will you be my wings?” The ground falls away, “A patch never meant.” And we danced, Buffeted…
January 10, 2021
“Without a Mirror,” “Ticking,” “The Ides of March,” and Other Poems
Without a Mirror He is driving on a road, maybe in the Midwest, maybe the south, perhaps somewhere in Colorado. He doesn’t know, no one knows. The…
January 9, 2021
“Cards,” “Evil World,” and “Obviously”
Cards 2 kids on the sidewalk, the bigger one says “hey! You want to buy some flowers?” “Flowers?” I say. “No! Cards. Football and Baseball cards.”…
January 7, 2021
Kho Hoon and Na Kagawa
A young girl, Na Kagawa Searching mushrooms By the Miraflores hill Was admired shitting A Japanese gentleman Kho Hoon making a shit With an ass…
January 3, 2021
“Wasteland,” “Warmth,” and “Darkness”
Wasteland he was stuck in an everlasting wasteland one of the few able to see the real evils of the world, the evils that destroy and ravage even the…
January 1, 2021
“Dark Nipples,” “I Command the Dead,” and “I Embrace My Darkness”
Dark Nipples “Must everyone know my nipples are dark,” she implored once in a Facebook message After finding that I shared a poem that documented my…
December 29, 2020
“After a 14-Hour Shift in the Cab,” “The Envelope with the Big Red Stamp,” “Making Sense is Old News,” and Other Poems
After a 14-Hour Shift in the Cab The fan hums at 5:31 p.m. and the humans are tired. The birds are cheered out and the flies fall like hollow…
December 28, 2020
“American Poetry,” “Vinegar Pie,” “Delmonico’s on the Mississippi,” and “Earthworms Here”
American Poetry Masculine existentialism, i.e., men looking forlornly into the middle distance, not too far, not too close. Masculine, because…