dear readers
What are we looking for, I wonder.
my skin tingled with goosebumps, and
unreasonable banshee whoops
like clouds...as if underwater
There are few things more difficult
Later, they will thank these frames, and
realize what a burden just holding the thing to be.
I've found it wanting
I too am looking for a home.
And I don't mean it's hella rosy or hella bad,
Do not mention the
LAUSSofDiReCtAcTiOn
you will have no more of me.
I give them close care and strange pity
The only thing to do here is to gaze at them day and night.
or we might forget
how long can we, and when
Afterwords you're encouraged to visit
No—how about something I wrote, instead?
it's always hard to say these things to someone else.
For now, you are mine
and we sort of rustled
how long can you keep me / one more
YES, WHORE WE MIGHT
Your harshest look, without shadow or color.
Who is this feverless guest suddenly in you?
This is not a baby.
He, with dry lips
by a young woman who has lost
los espejos son abominables,
all of this: i've found it wanting
I don't smoke. Is it important to say that?
for thirteen years inside the earth
You kneel / but only to get a better angle
(Later, they will thank these frames
& row back the wind
—it's we
I am afraid to close my hands / on you, the fresh marigolds) YES INDEED.