Month: June 2017

Blood Like Summer

I don’t have daddy issues I have a daddy and he spanks me like a promise one day I came home from the bar and smelled like tobacco and PBR and you know how scent is the most powerful trigger of memory well I remembered being slung low in the leather of your car every week for visitation and I didn’t have anything against your trailer park it’s just that I didn’t want to be chased by rough boys in Guns n’ Roses t-shirts I didn’t want stray cats to follow me home I didn’t want splinters but it...

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Handjob Is a Euphemism

She tugs my jeans down, squeezes my dick while saying squeeze. Rush of blood to my Pennsylvania, Amish fleeing the depot into my pubes. I’m supine on her floor-level mattress, her right hand smoothing out the ponytail that is Pennsylvania. The state looks phallic if you let it; expanding in area, land-grabbing parts of Ohio and New York. People swarming in like semen, testicles filling like moo-juice in a bucket. I’m moaning at the ceiling when her mother walks in. How else do I relate that Pennsylvania scatters a populace of inhabitants on my girlfriend’s chest; her mother asking...

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How to Have an Affair

Pretend you are someone named Lillian. Get your hair up real big. Pout. Google “tips for contouring your face.” Practice contouring your face. Find a lipstick called Sweet Peach that forms a thick shellac over your lips. When you look in the mirror pretend The Librarian is touching your neck, his thumbs brushing against your collarbone. Pout. Clothes are important. Your breasts should appear high and formidable, but cuddly. He can tell you how his mother died as he uses them as a pillow. Practice tracing the line of your cleavage with your finger. The curve of your nail...

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A Plexiglass Coffin

I wrote a love letter to a gold fish, Admiring her orange, And curvaceous belly, The underside of a thumb. She never wrote me back, Or blew me a bubble, As if to say: Don’t take this personally, You just have weirdly small, Toes. fish are not so good at love, And mammals make too many decisions, I am training Myself to forget Why I feel empathy, Toward a Lobster Roll. Take my feet and place them, In a Plexiglas Coffin And call it the sea. Consider the undeniable truth: A foot begins an arch way for crabs As...

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Crying as a Group Activity

be     quiet because they still burn witches around here and we can only say we are doing white magick so many times     a blood oath does not have to involve family     many things do not have to involve family    like truth     or     starvation these white bandages won’t help a lot     the hurt is farther inside     the dead boy chooses to still inhabit his curry colored body     how much does he own     if choosing stops being a choice be quiet     dry heaving is a funereal practice I want to be burned     I want a book written about my cremation     call it     a study in smoke I...

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