Category: Uncategorized
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Here’s to singing in the quiet. In the all the time. In the company of water. Apologies buried in the coda. With the songs pouring, nothing harmful can enter through your mouth. A passage only for salmon, for friends of jazz, for my fingers. I’ve been seasoning myself for this…
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A line like an arc of a circle. Red is general, not specific. Blood is specific, not general. Hers moves through it. It moves in an arc to the cycler. The cycler is plastic, not flesh. Plastic is general, not specific. It is not made for her body. Her body is specific, not general. It…
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the cell recallsa sunk disease loiters onthe cusp, a light sensitive material.culled images singed againstthe lid the reel celluloidinches in & out a frictionback and forth, frothing overthe weary machine. the heatedmeat catches cold—thencatches fire ; — from Candle Surgical–published by Tilted House Buy the chapbook here — Cameron Lovejoy is…
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Home isan inwarddirection a sequelathat polishesyour heart — from Fecund–published by Keith LLC Buy the book here — By Katie Ebbitt 👍
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Let me make friable a story, stone by stone, fromthis throat. Coming up my whole imagerepertoire was made from you singing; to meit felt like an attempt, a circle gatheringof debris around the song, shavingsof matter at every stage of its emergence,dust trailing an irritant comet throughthe atmospheres of your…
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You heard I came up lacking the equipment to be critical of BOGO propositions, just thrilled to be alive as spiders in the Long John Silver’s painted black. I’ve done as love and angel dust requires to my eyes. Took feedings at the horn unholstered from a thigh of only…
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In the dressiest of minefieldsin the conundrum of footwear.In the looped youth obsession with blockletters on bracelets in the hermit’sheart. In the foreground of a Cadillacin the background of a pomegranate.Wrap me in foil, put me in the Airfryer,wheel me out of the dereliction, the hospital,the fishtank. I like to…
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Alert! I have insight from a fruit producer That maybe the secret Is to take a normal thing And slightly permute it My friend the goblin Insists on this breathing Technique made by marines for Calm sleep when coming Down with an unrelated Disease of various Italian Blotches plotted eastwards…
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I let the rain touch me last night.It felt like burying my father.The rain that fell like rusty keys.It felt like burying my father,the rain last night I let touch me.The rain that fell like dead mosquitoeswas the rain that I, last night, let touch me–which felt like burying my…
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Would you believe them if they said what a sun was what gasoline or a turtle asleep in the childhood’s weedsWould you believe it if what they said was muddy or a price gouge emulsion & the violent cup kept there Would you believe it if they said what morning is what calendars or how to find out the…
Poetry Nightly 