alcoholism
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Disambiguate the Precedent (Assassination Attempt No. 1)
god isan alligator whitedunce cap commonsupernatural they are kindof fragile wicked motheri said i don’t know youreveal your incantatory powervanishes soon of dawnalligator calledmaeve anything is yoursbig smile lookingat leavesgoing aroundyour big breath rattlingevery baby born afterjune 07confused about cost and courseare you wind wisened carried from childto child in red eyeswe haven’t sleptfor weeks…
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Valzhyna Mort & Henri Cartier-Bresson, Postcoital
violent global apocalypsearen’t you worried brrthe mirror ball playing with the toddlerin the parking lotso meaningless: music in the air there is no belarusianversion of this poemshe turns the therapist to 11 we no longer think in colorthere’s only colddark and not dark the prism handles the restthe first third and fifth courseare the cheapest…
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portrait in oblivion (isa)
she says i can cook vegan she says savory nutritional yeast flakes harvested for good health our face is probably the only thing of that scale crushed red pepper flakes our face obsessed in its desire for duplicate i didn’t choose this sacred hardware our battle ax-thin XXX bride prime butch dress cascading salvo cachaça…
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Dear Oblivion
i’vestubbed my tone againagainst the edgeof some other universeunder the weeklyfarmers marketnear the free whiskeysamples retireddentist whosummers in santamonica whoexplains volatilizationcharcoalfilters in his coronavirusmaskthe perfect giftfor clark i’vetaken off againaround plutoin the byzantineeyes of mannothing to dowife away i’veglanced out againfrom my crashingself sea i’venamed myself againspoiled oilspilled spinningtop approachesedge gravityangel’s sharebitter shipgasping heirto a…
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Dear Oblivion
So much light, dear oblivion, night after night; I offered up my body. You refused. I drank. Begged, really. Said my dreams, you don’t belong here. Some countable mornings ahead, crouched in the internet’s dark corners, hands reaching into prosaic brightness, not to gather, but offer: News spreads of a virgin conception. And so much…
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Dear Oblivion
Prayer peels soul from body. Robin-eyed memory of never known. The scent of winter jasmine, he writes. I ascent, with neither knowledge nor trace experience. Mouth crawls with the acid taste of spider webs. Begging, really. Dear Oblivion, I continue asking the drain — conduit from, passive voice, channel away — to do the hard…
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Dear Oblivion
dear oblivioni hear you shredding bonein the goldenplacesalivatingsomewhereunknowablea mangrillsmeata childscreams what i mean to sayis this, dear oblivion:i rememberthe littoral darknessof the rising afternoonthe light never having beenenough dear oblivioni hear youcrawling away
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‘Dream Song 238’ by John Berryman
Henry’s Programme for God “It was not gay, that life.” You can’t “make me small,” you “can’t put me down” or take away my job I am immune, although it is not gay. Why did we come at all, consonant to whose bidding? Perhaps God is a slob, playful, vast, rough-hewn. Perhaps God resembles one…
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uh oh (kaboom)
Wikipedia Poem, No. 975 the gunpowder if it ever exists dries ready full-mouthed and mush his mission soon ends with no criteria sì, quella spiga— what athletic power passed the hum of squirrely / selfish putsch down— if darkly uplift the self gets righteous right to the bottom— quick, much is transparent and not raised…
wikipoem.org 