One way to measure the passage of time is to count the number of days since you last had sex. I’ve lost count. I only know it’s been more than three years for me and my husband—at least with each other. I know this because
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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
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
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
“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
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
I believe in the sun even when it is not shining, I believe in love even when I cannot feel it, I believe in god even when he is silent -written on
Ars Poetica with Inheritance & Refuse the neighbors’ son looksabout forty. he’s standingbeneath the oaks in their backyard, bellowing, justsay you’ll never give it to me,meaning the house in which the three of themnow