Month: February 2017

Drinking Alone

the ocean is laughing again with its one hollow noise and the constellation Orion is but five semi-bright stars making an awkward illumination: a tilted candelabra. i note this after i dream that we are on good terms, speaking again; but, your tongue is mid-glossolalia and i am in rags. i wake; the air smells slightly of flowers and salt. like sea lilies. i stumble like a false Christ to the kitchen, carrying the burden of another swig of whiskey. it burns my throat with liquid wasp-sting and i realize i slept through the afternoon. i missed the sunset...

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God of the MTA

Take a lover / who looks at you while you go out / to kill yourself & instead catch a woman holding a man like he is magic / even during an asthma exam when the nurse / tells you to breathe in harder, tells you you almost got it / & you don’t you’re just normal / when you hold your breath / in tunnels flopping lungs in the dark bargained for Manhattan / & a $2 dance / where $1 is a cheeseburger & the other is a lap select like bus service going to Brooklyn /...

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Into, Details

The working of a tongue on flesh, the certain color of seven o’clock and silence on the Gaziemir road. She straddles him; he reaches for the pink blanket, the word to say I’ve waited for this morning, this downturned mouth, this hair. The coffee’s been made, four eggs wait with sausage and salt. He pivots for her thighs, the swell of breast that becomes the arduous way of nightshade and granite. He is lost because she breathes so simply, the fall of skin and lotion from other days, other men who’ve gone into the cold for...

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Error Coding

301 Moved Permanently Your body still an arc, a part of this curve we called our own When I miss you most it is in the memory of your walk or the way you stretched your calf muscles out by balancing on different points of your feet or the scar across the back of your hand, the white ridged skin tattoo you never chose 502 Bad Gateway Remember that house we looked at in a city we didn’t live in? It was open and the realtor led us through with a smile. You whispered: imagine who we’d be if...

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Marksman

Amid the bodies of the trees, or next to the sea, I stand perfectly still, a circle around myself. I am my own address. At home, I turn off the lights, think more clearly about invisibility. Whenever I pull back the curtain from the window, I hear the microwaves listening to me. They’re godless, like animals, but so are the gods. At room temperature, I talk to myself, anonymously. I’m the person I was when I was born, what I say isn’t a surprise. Sometimes, I wonder if the future is still interested in me, and I forget what...

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