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The Bodyexpand_moreIf only to hold on by opening lord give me this one eighth day
Rain falls steadily, rattling down drainpipes and gurgling into gutters.
I wonder if those tiny computers in pigeons’ brains ever crash?
Ella knew she hadn’t hurt Sebastian, but she knew she’d betrayed him.
I miss sex. I really liked it, and I was good at it, if I do say so myself.
Mama would say beware of the little flaws that make one homely.
The guy from the funeral home can’t get the gurney into the house.
I will make my own man I will stitch together a coat of drunk minks
We pull up alongside the great body. The fin marks the spot.
We’re fat! So what? They hadn’t yet tired of this chant, the play’s refrain.
Bright rot laces the air, light sharpens each leaf. On our way to fallow, fire.
The hands opened calmly like seeds, endured the passage of time.
You need to teach these cows to meditate. To lose their bodies.
I am part dumb, and blind, and deaf, and untasting and unfeeling.
Her city, but no cats. Specks of color, no cloth.
It wants to name the dead—without a name you wander lost in the sky.
It was the truth of it all—hunger’s chill, the scream beneath the surface.
Wrung taut & tender at the soft play of fingertips, we breathe desires. Laughter takes refuge in bodies no longer coaxed to move. Nature becomes a thought.
There is something on my mind rushing up as river in a locked car.
Design a way to kill those rats, and do it now, Fiori, do it now.
Where will we go and how will we steer when the cars are gone?
What I became was not pretty. Like a needle on water-warped paper.
When an adult falls, children are stunned and cry, “Mommy! Mommy!”
I hightailed it out of the hospital like my ex-wife was a prison I’d escaped.
Louise watched from the shadow. She was looking for somewhere to land.
It’s like his bottom half is not man but a strong horse.
Across sage flats, tundra, and bleeding hearts, she escapes.
We can be naked in black light, the smell of unwash and old pot.
The girls got drunk, danced to Russian karaoke under disco-light glitz.
Blame the juncos outside. Sopranos in one tree, altos in another.
