my brother as an ErosGospel preacher my brother’s head is an array carrying the weight of an indexed scripture you could see how his ligaments..
Would you let me stay? If breathing were thoughts And I’m that ticklish patch of breeze That travels from the northern winds of your hair..
I – a bud – opened to absorb unknown pollen flowing in strange water that rippled as it came, like a spring dancing into..
They say I’m a girl muzzled into the feeble skin of a man They call me sissy I’m a little honey swaying on clumps of..
gospel of smoke or a new translation of godhood “sometimes i light god as a cigarette & watch him burn to see how long deity..
It’s like you lived in her shadows Or her blood vessels. You got her a loss, A loss she named ‘imaginary’ yet alive in gloss...
1 I am the earth, my sleeves are my hands, my eyes are needles. In another eyes, I am a bird, a bird’s song in..
To the children who look like the stories of the displacement of their homes afraid to infect their lovers with the poverty lacing their..
That was the year of letting go The year I sat this body down and taught it how to forgive The year I broke this..
And here, at the crossroads, hesitation lingers like the pounding voices of migraine. My head ― an anvil of hooves, stammers in scattered dialects..
