I considered the possibility
That the trees may be carnivores.
Because I could have sworn
I watched someone climb one
And never again touch the floor.
And when I spied on the trees
Through the thorns,
They did not mourn.
I could have sworn
They jeered and cheered.
Narcissus stares at the upper right corner of his zoom screen. he returns his gaze. professor’s lecture flounders. diluted discourse. how could school expect his attention? he tilts his head, swivels in his blue suede […]
With Bambi eyes all aflutter, I drink from the well of men.
A paper lantern hangs from every bloody coat hanger.
Under the cloak of 6 am, I am to be born again.
Lost in a June bug cocktail, I fall for a Parisienne.
He bought me roses, and I threw them in anger.
With Bambi eyes all aflutter, I drink from the well of men.
People get really excited
about the fact that snowflakes
are unique, different,
irreplaceable,
as if uniqueness is synonymous
with beauty.
Every sore back,
every pulled muscle
earned while shoveling
those snowflakes is unique as well.
No one celebrates
the sore backs
or the pulled muscles.
My alarm goes off.
I feel groggy
Because I was awake at 6 am again.
I get up and make myself a sweet coffee
Then walk down to a warehouse to ask for a job.
This one’s only 29 minutes away,
18 by bus.
They hire me on the spot.
When my mom was pregnant with me, they asked my older sister what she thought about her sibling still growing in the womb.
“It’s a girl, and her name is Jennifer,” she insisted a few times.
Jennifer is a very common name for girls born in the 70s or 80s. Even in the 90s we had two, sometimes three, Jennifers in my class most years.
But my parents didn’t know where my sister had heard the name. There were no Jennifers on her favorite shows or in her class. Her best friend at the time was a “Valentina”.
Picked it up on the tail-end of its zeitgeist, maybe.
My parents couldn’t consider any other name after I was born.
I knew there’d be a cloud-covered sky hereon the night of the lunar eclipseknew itI readied my eye for red moonfelt cheated whenever swirls of gray rolled infirst measurable snow forecast instead, an occasionI’d normally […]
1.
Followed his friends
wherever they went
That’s how he found himself
in the barn that first night
Seig Heils and venom
Impassioned and celebratory
His awe and fear
Why he was chosen first
Branded like cattle
in what was supposed
to feel like belonging
Belief sown into skin
1.
Thursday night in the city / 10pm-ish I think / I’m busy / doing nothing / watching / the girl in green as she trips down the escalator & cuts her knee / it bleeds a little & her friends scream. Apparently / once lost / sanity is hard to find; seeing is believing & I am blind [drunk]. I can’t remember exactly where I lost my mind but I might well have lost it here / Kings Cross no apostrophe / where the streets are mean & the people are mean(er) & I myself have nowhere to be & no one to see (I was meant to party with a drag queen but he’s pulled a sickie) & I must stop praying to a God who doesn’t believe in me & yes, the Eurostar is tempting—Montmartre in the morning—drunken dreaming? clearly: I don’t have the fucking money for properly escaping. And look at the men on a stag-do whistling / grinning / leering. Misery hates company but danger becomes me. Where I end up this evening remains to be seen but for now / for right now / it’s just me, Chablis & Sarrazin (Patti gave me Albertine for free) & the grime of city life trapped between my grinding teeth.