Every memory I have coveted and stolen.
Every minute I have recorded as if the night
would erase it from me. So I write it on paper quickly
saying, This was my house. I once lived here.
(Tina Chang, Half-Lit Houses)
"three time loser, you'll never learn,
lay down your tools before you burn.
ya keep on runnin' and hidin' your face,
spreadin' your heat all over the place."
-I don't own any images unless specified-
Stuff I like (all)
to be a body
the boys drink
their new england beers
& ruin everything. jokes
fall like eggs. sweat reeks
of copper & compost.
they blame their...
All Of It
your eyes say hello to three am,
barely open, drooping low
as the near desiccated river
back home & his body
arches over you, smelling
preemptive nostalgia (1)
legs bare & tangled toward a window
thrown open & the constant smack
of the box fan & all of the wood
in the whole place...
untitled ars poetica, draft one
I must use stanzas like a net
to capture the laughter of my roommates
or my lover or my childhood self