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. /
After 100 days learning German on Duolingo.com Your cow is pretty. I
On the faculty hiring committee, I march,demanding they acknowledge meand my virtues. I tell them I am decent.I never thought about killing someoneexcept myself, even then I didn’t do it.Despite myself &
Bildungsroman: Donations So in goes the broken hose that wrappedyour ankle and swept you wet to the grass, and ingoes the cylinder of loose oolong you had held under you nose like
Clanking trams pass my windows opened to the street. In a mason jar almost full with water, I place roses, given by friends, in sun atop the kitchen table. A
Year after year, adaptation: neverunwieldy, but steady. Sometimes careless. Always there is traffic, and groceries.Those are the easy things. And then sometimesthese ruptures, or raptures. Great distancesexpand / contract with my breath
Parched When I woke up this morning I was thirsty for waterso I went into the kitchen and made a coffee. Then I reclined on the couch, warming my ovarieswith my laptop
a quarto for L.B. all alone in the dark
I’ll tell you from experience that the night sky looks different after your mom dies. When the moon is out and you remember some old poem about how every person that has
a cicadaeats itself whole a cicadaisn’t scared of you. At the hotel, the sky was. A gold balloonshaped like #1 flew past the mountain & I wasn’t scared of you. * #1 could
I bore the badlands, burned my birth certificate in a sweat of cedar. Shed light upon the burial. So obsessed with stars I toiled with the earth, knowing nothing of the sacred, where
