misgivings on Sunday — last weekend we came in burnt fumbling with the chipped zippers of our jackets another had fallen it hit us how there are so many fallen so many stagnant, scarlet puddles the stench of copper polluting Central, Nicollet, and Broadway I confessed that night over a blunt i’m paranoid i’m…

Art of love, love of art — **For Marcus Parkansky** sleeves of pink sleeves of green sleeves of yellow the barista’s charcoal stare his liquid smoke stance exude a sooty aroma from the coffee grounds’ tender earth the coiled, onyx terrain is nestled beneath his weathered cap, smudged from his greasy fingers these same fleshy tendrils formed that…

a layer poem — lapis lazuli you’re thick and rich enough to paint these sour cream walls you’ve tinted these palm lines with an extraterrestrial’s blood cerulean with two shaky hands I swab your face and reveal your stained yellow teeth I step aside, aching to be swabbed by you denim that was the end of my shivering, when you…

Inspired by my recent stroll through lovely San Francisco — **For David Priggie and Alvin Kim** The Mix — the patio sizzling with various, savory scents and meats, casual shorts bulging with thick wallets, hard-ons, thighs tightened from a late afternoon spin class, marinating in crisp cologne, pungent from the fiery West Coast Sun David, taking another whiff of poppers…

strange loop — explain to me why they only eat raspberries and oats with honey, with the inhumane delight of stepping over the frozen dead there’s a novel to be written of their adamant denial of any inadequacy explain to me why they only display superficial pleasantry when i compliment their extravagant jacket from d. nolo…

A sequel to A Drunken Confession — like gingerly extracting loose hair from my scrunchie I removed the image of your nude, snoring body before running my fingers through my personal licorice cascade like flawlessly peeling an apple in one coiled strip I carve a glistening mass of flesh tempting any half-starved man to sink their teeth into my side…

deconstructing an all-nighter — Did you think I was sleeping when you confessed you were afraid I would leave Do you know I leave the porch light off when it snows for at least two days Do you know I leave the peppers out of our omelettes, I watched you pick them last time …

everything unsaid — There’s a cracked tile I’m afraid to cross An ancient chasm which Has gathered years of dirt I scrape most of it into A pen battered by chew marks and scribble a droning Sex-starved manifesto Blandly, they read, retread Manuscripts of Dirt, of Peat Hardly better than their former Glaring…