POLITICALLY CORRECT

Who may tell her story? Who has earned the right? What if she’s come and gone? Has no tongue, no eyes, no hands? Must one wear her skin,...

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For the Jukebox that Won’t Stop Playing the National Anthem

the sultry ode composed of smashed teeth, blood stained glass, hammer-fist dents, ready to turn public spaces into choral asylums, turn...

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“a plea”

maybe you will want to love another more than you could love me. so i ask of you, please do not let her name be written at the end of your...

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Two Tall Women in NYC

Losing my identity was not in our plan. Mary and I came to the big city to celebrate finishing our books—my psychological thriller and...

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Vestal Valentine

What love I’ve known I found on knees, by chance between iniquities. Fingers confined a backwards prayer, cutaneous chants without my...

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Please Pick Up Your Trash

A cigarette bowed from my lips, burnt on one side as I sucked, to even embers. The alley painted with ‘fuck you’ was where I went with...

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WANTING

blindfolded adrift on a wave of lust shameless consumption grows strong in my desert that turned to dust slinking past watchful eyes...

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Caught

I do not know if I should cut my hair. It is very long. Some people call it obscenely long. It’s the color of wheat, and very often air...

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