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You sweep small splintered palms across Milky Way dust. They are dark and cratered, coated in things unseen, bright pollutants, little words like “I always thought they were planes.”

the yellows of the eggs are eyes, staring wide as they are whisked and flipped into another home. flour blooms scattered white petals on the sides of wood like homespun ...

I need you hopeless-- cold blood color careens beneath the reach of light, somewhere tip-toeing underground like a sightless mole with shovelled paws; still-- still, they said, still as a ...

i. she needs me to tell her she's beautiful because he won't. I can't lie. she is beautiful-- her legs slope like elms and her shoulders turn into bell jars ...

^ that.

"posture" is my favorite from you in a long while. I have to echo blackbird in that I think you're starting to stretch out from the rut you found yourself ...

For MMM's contest Inspiration: In Tribute to Harry Crosby: The Mad Queen's Forever Fever by Hypocrit They burn their blood and drink the ash with their lungs-- nooses spun and ...

rusting skin in the shower; she forgets what she looks like and startles in the mirror, wide eyed, sleepless and pouched. scraping the rust away, she examines its dullness in ...

I think that I've found something in your photography that's been bothering me for a while. I've not quite been able to put my finger on it before but--- here ...

Hey there. I'm a poetry-person as well, though I dunno how good I am at it. Good fun, though. So, kind of stuff do you write? What about? Are you ...

dusk is lonely like a window watcher who has forgotten how to close the blinds and open the door-- the glass is cometed and meteroed with curiosity, gunpowdered with dust ...

images.jpg tragedy is a stale bedsheet; thunderclap on lips, you slept with morphine dripping like the set of an unsteady heart and a ghost knelt on your breath, heavy and ...

our footsteps crosshatch and darken like sweet slumbered through nights, and I found the lips of a bottle on mine last night like some long lost lover that found me ...

i am a skeleton in a closet hidden and wilfully forgotten, tumbled into enjambed lines, dry wood bones and memories etched into the lines of each joint-- i am fossilized ...

I haven't slept for days-- each bat of my eyes eats at my skull and churns like a thicket of crickets-- and thunder caught in my stomach, my skin cracks ...