I like how you spend your timebreathing— into your pelvic fire,to help signal a feeling of release,balancing contentment with desire,because it is necessary for holiness. I like how you spend your timeeating—what makes you pucker:green tea, Montmorency cherries;steeling yourself for loose hunger,and for whomever says: Yes, please. I like how you spend your timedrinking—from an… Continue reading I Like How You Spend Your Time
Never is honey as rawas its origin flower, at the moment of dehiscence,giving in to the releaseof seeds, pollen, and the quiet that comes after —the spontaneous openingalong a single crackof built-in weakness,where the wound fails to heal. Mark how the wisteria behaves,dripping from a ceilingin the 1900 blockof NE Schuyler Street;how its winglike petals… Continue reading The Raw Touch
The sun had come down, but not out.It was the bulb of a projector, casting cool, blue light from its core; except for lacking an electrical cord. Where did the heat come from that changed the surface of the moon from swiss cheese to a flat screen, capable of displaying our vitals? A reddish tinge… Continue reading Afterglow
Thinking about how sex is different, much more different, now than it was then; not materially -- the strings still bray, their ancient tongues still flick the same -- but structurally. Thinking about how to imagine being fucked from behind, without gagging on a principle: all sex is violence except the kind that is saved… Continue reading One-Track Mind
There's a rat-a-tat-tat on the window that my imagination takes for bird's play -- swallow -- and then I see her dancing, with her twin in the glass, damn narcissist, she's asking for it, go splat at my feet. No feathers? There's a feet, or two, or a pair of Converse shoes faded that familiar… Continue reading Would you like to throw a stone at me?