Poetry

My Abstraction

the moth dries on the spot, the spot marked here, abstractions were wet with viscera even when you drew a line through and through the essay, experience is kill...

Neon World

Dads shoulders were the top of the neon world Cotton candy ice cream dripping down my arms Vivid blue and vibrant pink stains all over my body Losing my teet...

Venetian Ceruse

A pliable cancer blithely swept across faces of noblewomen smearing ignorant flesh with stark virginity; painting untruths with wide brushstrokes of stee...

Summer, 1998

When gospel was found in glossy pages of magazines I pored over, lemon juice soaking my hair, I was first learning how to be somebody I was not. “Baby On...

La Reine Quotidienne

Every day, she wakes up, goes to the bathroom, and wipes the remnants of the night mask from her face. She washes and curls her blonde hair, whose roots must be...

Carbon Pressure

The thing you hate is hidden in the grass. Is groaning. Wants a boy to rub the urge be urge to suck it first then swallow. Every inch. Is snake in a box drum, ...