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,...
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...
Continue reading
“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...
Continue reading
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...
Continue reading
Vestal Valentine
What love I’ve known I found on knees, by chance between iniquities. Fingers confined a backwards prayer, cutaneous chants without my...
Continue reading
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...
Continue reading
WANTING
blindfolded adrift on a wave of lust shameless consumption grows strong in my desert that turned to dust slinking past watchful eyes...
Continue reading
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...