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I am desperate to love myself, to tolerate myself, vanity is fine.

I walk across the fields with only a few young cows for company.

Some goals: stop buying jeans. Stop being angry at mom/dad/sister.

Ten years ago, when I was in college, my father divorced my mother and said he wanted me to become responsible for her. That is why I fled to Italy.

I hang there, upside down, watching Bronwyn, her face beatific.

He had seduced them with his sincerity for truth-seeking.

We wondered at their habits and gave them little poems for names.

Isn’t Nightshade sad, people said; isn’t he pathetic; isn’t he hideous.

Just sugar cubes and a crop for you. Salt licks to smart the tongue.

I hear pleasure ringing, and I wonder what led us to this moment.

It’s been months, and the fields are good for nothing but night talks.

When an old man marries a young piece of flesh, she is the ruler.

Here is the fat guy whose Chihuahua gnawed through his stomach.

The Village wasn’t really a village. No walnut trees. Just cut flowers.

Goretti was a victim perfect for her time, an icon of Catholic sexual politics.

She’d ransacked his heart the moment she unlocked the door.

Fearing for them, I clustered them together, then cut them off.

She’s not the same, her body more naked in its aging, its disorder.

my grandparents lay in a room listening to their legs rub together

Mostly, though, you could turn them in your hand, hold them to your nose.

Two animals, doe-eyed, slick across the road into the femur of the night.

She takes her shirt at the waist and pulls it up slowly: her hips, belly, bra.

Doctor Dressler left her a note: Suicide. Back by 7:00. Love, Max.

What if it does choose, the egg, I mean, her favorite spermatozoon.

Dance with you? I said after a moment. That’s your dare?

Eros, myth, life, and literature in brilliant paintings by Lincoln Perry.

so easily impressed when wet / so easy / to see through when turned / off

Small valleys and veins give way to a lifted ridge like a rib or an arm bone.

A man drunk on the damage he made to a boy’s young mouth.

& I said let there be dark pouring from your mouth at daybreak