In these situations
I’m trying to figure out what is going on.
So is he too. Purged for oversharing,

. . . or somebody’s going to get hurt.
For my sake, however, keep pealing to a minimum.
We’ll need the firewood you can pick up on the shore

My mother was glamorous in a way I knew I 
never would be. Velvet belt buckle. Mascara 
lash. Miniature crimson lipstick living in the 

Now I’m an archivist. Indexer of everywhere 
I have ever been. Of every ­moment I stood 
there and there. Of where I was when I was 

Some days, everything is a machine, by which I mean 
remove any outer covering and you will most likely 
find component parts: cogs and wheels that whir just 

Does the erotic exist outside architecture? The shepherd 
asleep, the shepherd awake—his staff in his hand. Sweet 
are the fields of. Exiled from home am. A sandwich of 

We have a house. There is a roof and there are windows. I think they are square. You can see through them, that’s for sure. There is a door to go into and out of the house. It works both ways. And oh, a floor.

I am never lonely and never bored. Except when I bore myself, which is my definition of loneliness—to bore oneself. It makes a body lonesome, that.

I wear a suicide belt I detonate
And make my City of Light 
A coprophagic tomb. 

Once upon a time. Twice on her parents’ bed.
She freaked out when she found the human stain