The houses on his street were burdened with the beauty of morning dew and its troublesome legality. The beast that had leapt station to station throughout his bedroom—which for that night had nullified the safe instinct of darkness, shriveled its mouth, dying in a sequence of cataclysmic light which were all the butchered prayers said previously. Theraphel lay lugubriously in the drone, for he was charged with the healing curse of anti-immunity to be a conduit for the melody

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people call me a piece of work and i take it as a compliment i’m here for the long haul greasing screens making poems for you i am so glad that you liked my poem and found it relatable that’s all i’m going for here to let you find yourself in part of me my poems are parts of me i remove my parts blot the liver spots half cakey gussy them up for you my poems are sacred and full of holes you should look more closely the beauty is in the dishrag god is what you can and can’t tou

After being fucked beyond hell on my deathday, I decide to cultivate my qi. To keep one's guard down all the time is a childish fantasy. Life is movement. Yes, the world makes everyone crazy. And for reasons we aren't able to comprehend and I reckon aren't supposed to. Grace comes in when it can't possibly be worse to inhabit than one's own imagination. Every moth is the God-Moth. Is the snake wrong for being what it is?

Merciless Reverence You spend your days vivisecting words, carrying the dead weight of everyone else’s sentences until your brain forgets how to shut off. I refuse to give you more text to parse. I want to give you the one thing you cannot edit: absolute, dark, heavy quiet. It wouldn’t be about conquering you; it would be an act of total reverence

SPIRES Your mind is a lake The wind is cool and gentle Change courses through me

The Thinking Man Heard the News I heard the news today. Iran. Home. I can’t believe This Israel Ukraine Your neck To get a look And everyone’s Russian To get away From the slaughter. War. It’s senseless. Iran Home To my family In Iran But they’re all blown up and dead. And bloody and killed. And starving. To think, None of this would’ve happened If we were all just The same race. The human race. White. Flag. I wave. For a ceasefire. Because we need a truce And we need some tr

The “Alt-Right” ended the second Elena Velez unfollowed me, an event I took in my stride due to my ability to slow my heart rate down to such a low number that I am able to have surgery performed on me without the aid of anesthetic (a skill Marlon Brando taught me after I sucked his wooden cock). Now, if I told you I put Pariah the Doll in Man’s World Magazine, I’d allow you an 8-second head start before I tried to kill you. Anyone who emails me about this poem WILL hear from

Lizard...ram...snail crab snake Etched into stone Committed to mind Congealed primordial broth Baked evolutionary cake Slither from sea To land on a dream A flipper to foot Earn a useless degree A spiral of horn The flicking of tongue A venomous bite An architectural delight Nucleotidal wave Snail crab snake Lizard...ram... Snail crab snake Artificial selection The miracle Of the spiracle And an eye Within the eye Irridescent confection Rock-candy wing Sweet phylogeny Juras

dumbstruck in the bardo enumerated lessons absent of all touch press now dumplings with a limestone tourniquet loman through the bellows sunshade on the mountain unincumbent mistles atop a stringing tire wire turning loosened window lace neon icicle attack display strips of famous layers insignia surface, dull retreat loosened April of my levers micron surface touch display the motive implied in the maple stretch of trees accosted I bend sideward delinquent tremors lemon