Extinction Song
The full moon / can make light of darkness. How can we, when we’re asynchronous / with our own heartbeat, with the earth?
#36 Poetry
Creep of dust and water
Chronic illness is like dust. I have one of those syndromes– / where symptoms are layered upon layers, and the pain renders /
my body an arid landscape.
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my executive is not functioning
but who has time to fall apart? / my father readies a black / garbage bag: / my umbilical cord casket.
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G̵̹̿ļ̷͝ì̷̞t̵͚͠c̷̜̅ḧ̴̥ of the Wound
Sensation’s persistent voice, a warning
whisper like the barbed death wish / of a stonefish.
G̵̹̿ļ̷͝ì̷̞t̵͚͠c̷̜̅ḧ̴̥ of the Wound Read More »
Turn up the radio please.
Numb me out / ‘til / tongue through / cotton triangle moves / shirt- / waist over / buckling / skin, tendril legs, / a skating thumb in mouth.
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Atrophy
Mouth a skipped stitch through the purple bruise of your gown. Gauze your tongue to prevent the spread of inflection. Rebuild yourself with blocks of ice.