light tinge

New Orleans new years

This bone is wet

When you are scared and wondering
what goes on in woods
you quietly notice your boots on the wrong feet
as you look down while pissing in the soil.

Something in your mind is withering.
Yet, the fungus climbs,
the loons screeches,
the ice covering the lake cracks

A long day of swimming with your eyes open in pools laced with chlorine. Belly up. Lump in throat. Tan shouldered bunny-eyed lazy queen, sleep weak til that early morning, warm body in the bed symptom passes, passes, passes.

ORALIA

double consumption of the mouth as eye, ingesting.

infants (speechless)

members (remembered)



The sap on the side of the tree in driveway, knotted in dark black hair

dog patch

Paradise Stressed

Bells in our throats pressed

Tongues on the roofs of our mouths. Scent is a soft branding iron of felt, or moss, or a thick native american wine syrup, or a pincecone stuck in the honeycomb-like heel of my light brown hiking boots. I'll leave this all out to dry. Outside between oaks branch, chainlinked fence, damp couch on porch, cigarette, litterbox, sweet smelling grass. Hung dry.

Numbed in a distilled coma, falling into it, high on Ophelias last breath alone. Feels like when the fingers glide down a wet fishing net, grabbing for a minnow caught from a ditch in the front yard.

Porcile