The saintless hold a disdain for history. Unfixed hearts pop and cramp along an axis which circumnavigates the ruin after terrible decisions. Proximity is better
more loveI don’t want to throw your words back at you, as I sit here, alone, spinning my records with thoughts of you in my head.
more loveIf you open me now, she says, you’ll see all my yesterdays carefully put up like home-canned tomatoes, peaches, pickles, beans—the bounty of summer stored
more loveI remember 17, working weekends, my first real job, girl-boss of Housekeeping, trading soiled cloths for clean. First lover, I met you there. College boy,
more lovein an alternate universe / I am 12 / and I do not seek suffering in starvation / believing hunger is my superpower / I
more loveEarly birds crave the first rays. Worms pray for mercy. Leftovers beg for attention. I’m left with the waste. I seize a single streamer, tie
more loveThey say hair holds memories And if that’s true I’m calling my barber. I want to erase the feeling of your fingers on my scalp
more loveLeaves litter concrete bed, having succumbed to wind’s ecstasy. & we’re left picking unstrung emotions across the room, tooth-picking bliss, reliving every kiss. You can
more loveNo words in the mail, no words onscreen, nada in the tête-à-tête of fingers embracing in the waiting room. Silence disperses us like tear gas.
more loveWithin black walls, black floor shot through with red clay specks, beneath the picture, your favorite, with the red paint flung wide, canvas smoked and
more loveDisordered Glosa for Richard Hope makes itself every day springs up from the tiniest places No one gives it to us we just notice it.
more loveIn the heart of this southern city where lady’s wear Sunday hats, eat grits and drink beer in mugs and where gents were once proper,
more love