May 5, 2018
Walter walks with his fat wife
down to the riverbank
on very warm nights.
They carry a light blanket
and lie in the grass.
This July night the moon is full.
“Walter,” says his wife,
“The moon has been spurned
Walter’s lips are in continuous motion
his mouth is full of bright ideas
and his wife’s kisses.
He is working two jobs now
saving money to take his fat wife to Lagos
to dance the Nigerian Afro-beat at The Shrine.
Rain falls like a drum roll
on Walter’s umbrella.
Noticing the absence of a lilac breeze
we spread our bellies over cool earth
mourn the dandelions’ death
their white ash clings against the barn
your duck takes lazy drags of slender weed
like a woman’s cigarette.
Onto our backs
I weave you a necklace of clover
while you tell...
Speak a new language
so that the world
will be a new world....
March 5, 2018
I went to bed muttering something
about God, or not a God, or a woman
an uncertain self-separation,
a soul in the arms of a sea — soul —
What it's like to be Human in a Non- Human Form
Living or Dead Things
April 25, 2019
After Hanif Abdurraqib
EX-SPY FOR THE INTERNATIONAL FBI
May 7, 2018
Self Portrait of the Artist
The Artist as a Young Man
April 2019 (4)
May 2018 (56)
April 2018 (6)