there are those, I discovered late, who were not born
loathing their bodies
whose faces grew from their souls, & were not stamped
upon a skull with little care
whose arms & legs grew evenly, & filled out
to shape the natural Adonii
who could smile a perfect smile, & had never struggled
to practice their expressions
in river water

after you, we signed an accord – no more loathing; we work
with what we have
as I would prefer a finer skeleton, with nobler
flesh, so too
does my meat desire a cleaner mind; a more honest
& open heart
& neither bone nor soul dares to dream
of what could have been
had grace been aware of our birth

now, we tear the contract, & cast our duties aside & know
something like forgiveness;
my arms knew peace after you stepped into them, as I
forgave my fingers their crooked grasp
I forgave my smile for its failures, as my lips
came to know yours
& even the shrivelled jaw & receded chin know peace
when they come to nestle between your thighs
where a stronger jaw
might not have reached

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Working Still Life Classes

I don’t want my depressions taken
from me – taken too seriously;
rather fodder for endless jokes &
no hatreds revealed
but rage & rats cause bitter smiles to blossom
into joyous things;

Alive

Do your computers come to life when you sleep? Do the spectres of the dead inhabit the space between the wires; are souls just electricity – crackling along the veins and spinning around the bones? Do they flicker through the internet, in silent servers a world away;...

Unfocused

I can’t get the camera to focus. All the streetlights are stretched from Heaven to Hell; they make it impossible to see. The sky pants to itself, desperate, behind the yellow flowers, starved, and crucified on the grass, thirsty, beneath the splintered lights, waiting...

December 4th, 2017

I’m not going to make this about love.
heard all your warnings,
don’t want to be pigeonholed.
I know other things
intimately; low-slung couches
cigarettes & spontaneous electrical surges.