You Wear the Hospital like a Feather

you wear

death like

a fashionable

unknown

color and i french

kissed you

in

its mist, hugged

your thighs

and

said it

was alright

to go and you drove a

black truck. you wear

the hospital like

a feather, and

coin a

new

injury

with every

word

we always talk about the birds in the storm on the line.

when their feathers stand up the opposite way from the wind.

a little bulge on the cord.

a wooden four foot giraffe hat-rack

and it’s understanding eye.

things like that are good for boys.

so we learn to hang up our cool little coats.

#poetry

one eye is lying (in every picture)

my left eye
is perfect my
right eye confides but
you’ll have to trust me my
right eye says
nothing my left eye disguises my
right eye is blind but
you’ll have
to trust me my
left eye sees nothing my
right eye implies

#poetry

"americano"

i walk when
rain gets in
my coffee i
slow and stop
until the spots
connect and my
jeans are dark

#poetry

there is a daisy and a wilted hyacinth in
an old salad dressing jar on the sill. the
cheap white curtains with interlocking gold greek pattern
flutters. the screen fell into the yard. it was
early summer near the ocean near the
marshes it flooded often. the houses floated.
people were buried in jars

"hip-high
in this, my own
orinoco"

Title: Still Life with Sunflower, Swift and Damselfly

The Four Corners of Pluto

down the street there was a
shop which sold old clothes.
past that a gathering place for
vapid peers and politicos. a similar
church which was once a grocery
i’ve heard. another store sold other
things that were old.


Read the rest @ prettycertified.com
#poetry

"Some Title Ideas For Your Next Memoir"

skin crawler,
orgasm, affairs;
-affairs in order-
casket dancer,
big goner, memoir:
getting hit on by fucking mary karr and
she
won’t stop saying i’m a tall drink of water.