necromancy betwixt childhood and adolescence,the bell is tugged, ringing and whipping.a premature burial, born of intensechildish fevers. worms inhabitthe blood and dirt, liningthe delicate throat. collecting organs felt like picking daisies,sticky with congealed...
With Hearth & Home, a Phoenix May Rest Some say failure tastes of iron.He knows better. Failure is cloying ash coating his tongue, the brittle soot of burnt dreams and a flammable future. He rolls the grit of it between his teeth, spitting out black loss as he...
Still Shall I talk of the starlight that shines beyond extinction, travelling the dark to reach us? Or will I tell you the truthhow the heat in her small body,so briefly borrowed from my womb, gently vanishedbefore the midwife took her from the room. How I cupped...
Climate Grief It is March still in the small of my backand my eyes are reeling—too many trees flash by like wounded corpses,too many roads for flooding,too many miles and I have to slow the car down.When the fires finally come, will those trees still be standing? The...
At the Huntington Gardens Something monstrous turns my way but is blanketed by the prettiest lilac down all gushed in purple-white. —“Mourn You Better,” Muriel Leung Lotus (nelumbo nucifera): once cherished in [ ]; the flower that rises...
Maura, last night you asked me if Flirting With Misandry was a good title. I said you should fill a lake with misandry and swim around in it— that’d be better, why flirt when you can fuck it— and you laughed in lithe indigos. Like titles were genders in the making,...
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