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
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* Voltage-gated pathways are depolarizedand pore-forming membrane proteinsallow calcium influx from adjacent solutions. (Cell insides become saturated) Excitation is mossy fiber runningsouthbound head-stems and paired shootsthrough once-relaxed tissue. * You’ve established rules,preventative
What separates us from our lives / is a see-through thing. /
Brandon Downing’s collections of poetry include The Shirt Weapon (2002), Dark Brandon
Head out, highway highA continuous zephyrEl Dia Previo synced Admiration for the asterismsPastel colored moonglowing Measured burning glancesPinkies linked, head cradled Zaira is an emerging writer from Pennsylvania. As a queer Mexican
Pandora, when she lifted the lid, did she knowwhat she would loose? Not the least: blame, which would brand her and her sisterswith the blood and resentments of men. Like Eve, who
Kissing the Wolf What wolf, that kissed me so, and in kissing mekissed himself, together we fell into a single pleasurehe and I, pressing my kisses into his emptiness,saying do and do
Like Orion let his hounds loose. Asteroidsand drool raining from on high. Like a bitewound where each mark grows a new tooth. A wound that takes its time, wandering and whininglike a
“But though I tried so hard, my little darlin’, I couldn’t keep the night from coming in.” – Joanna Newsom crushed into powder I might be poison or potion I don’t know
LITANY WITH CHERRY BLOSSOMS Seppuku summer, and you cut my hair so shortI pretend I am the boymy parents want me to bethough I wish I could be nobodyas you sweep the
I wake up in a room that I have never seen empty.It takes my body more than a few minutes to un-ampersand.It feels like remembering snow in the absence of snow. Like running the tonguearound the teeth
I picture perfectthe moon’sabrasions,orange over Malibuthat night. Ocean blue and crestingin Dad’s blurry footagebehind his father,face paintedlentigo. This was yearsbefore his fall, beforehe only spoke in no’sand wa’s. His skullintact and helmet-free,his
Landscape Standing on the Circle K bat bridge, I’m lonelyin that selfish way. My car, parked in the lot,smokes from the hood when I push forty-fiveand my phone is busted. I have
Homecoming On shattering glass water slips
