i decayed to a voice a vowel a stressed syllable. trapped in the glass of my childhood jar. i used to stab stars in the top. insects crawled on the...
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The first time that the trees began to walk, Mae wore pink onesies and couldn’t yet talk. She lived with her mother at the end of the road, and they...
man in the land of Uz you don’t know the first thing about a crow where to trace its roots when to call the doctor in the summer what words...
And the men say put her over
the fire just to see, and the women
say bake her a cake in a thimble,
just to see
has a story about human greed and a flood. The Queen
licks the blood from her blade.
We burn his photo under the tree. My friend, I trust her witchcraft.
No wonder songs are so full of denial. And what
did you do about that?
My fifteenth summer, I poured tears from two earthen pitchers and half the tears fell on dry ground and the other half spilled into the lake where the ripples spread like whispers in empty echo chambers.
I climbed the beanstalk, up and up, to the realm
Of pendulous curtains.
What made me want him? That supple, brutal kingsnake of a boy, wine-lipped and longhaired.