After Jennifer S. Cheng 1: the sea captured in a glass 2: a homophone for having enough for leftovers, a synonym for abundance 3: the fish, who have already forgotten you. It’s not personal 4: where memory fails, there’s still imagining 5: you. Not as an ocean but outside 6: glass and/or acrylic
Read Morecan i buy you a drink can i just say that trans* people are not a burden it’s your body that gave you away it’s your body that i like can i
The lights dim. The seatsfill with sequinedcowboys. Leatherdykescirculate, lean againstthe bar. Everyoneis here & everyone wants to be here. The drinksare strong & cheap& named thingslike desert rose& cactus blossom.They make the
Apple peels curling pinkly on the kitchen table, their white meat tart and cold when I bit into their crescent shapes. Because I was five or six or seven even, I didn’t find
I was walking into the building where I work. It’s on Illinois, off West Market. When I was halfway in, I heard a man shout, “He’s leaning against it!” I don’t know
On the First Day of the Year, I Try to Write You A Love Poem after We Drink Until 5 AM Kitchen floor cigarettes light into the New Year like birthday candles–the
Open Wide small mouth with too many teeth
When the sun drips underthe mud, I dive up. Dusk to dawn, baby. I knowwhat it is to wait all night, to holdheat in my throat like a secret. I wishI could
at some point while you create yourself you tryto
i am tired of eating mortar. my body is getting too heavy. when the girl at the ice cream shop doesn’t take my order, i joke if it’s because i’m chubby
“It’s not always easy to tell the difference between thinking and looking out the window.” —Wallace Stevens, Letters (1966) * * * “Where do you want the window?” Everett asks, standing on the unframed