Poetry

THE YOUNG MAN He has not yet killed the chicken in his father, that soft Spanish rising and falling in the monotony of Sunday. He...

BEFORE A WEDDING a man on my throat on top of me at twenty. I called him my hand, my doing, my release. It is...

POEM after Chris Green I was born on Good Friday the 13th, the day Jerusalem drowned drunk on the blood of her hollow son. I...

At the cusp of booming you don't trust your hands

Romans 6:4a¹ The second time you’re baptized you wade into the Westfield River, skipping stones across the unscrolled Bible in your head, following a skinny-limbed...

FLIGHT for I.L.P Soar down Harlem, legs locked, wind twisting bodies closer. Her sapphires echo neon signs; she sips the blue in mine tasted three...

THUNDER, LIGHTNING Thunder, lightning appear on the sea and we slip to Lesbos to be islanded and enclosed. Thunder, lightning. You roar as I strike...

  SO I LOCKED MYSELF INSIDE A STAR FOR TWENTY YEARS Touch was absolutely out of the question. I couldn’t stop sweating. My heart, a...

as cormorant. as crow. as colon. as comma. as coma. as shadow. as shade. as show. as collards. as collection plate. as play cousin. as...

This four dimensional fabric drapes awkwardly on my flabby frame, like my wardrobe has given up on being worn

File other news under Creeley, or perhaps chemotherapy, now the tropes of a turtle can be a lintel to your cardiac revving. Meanwhile there’s footage...