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You linger in the dimming aftermath, grayer and fainter than a breath.

My lust works like the tides pulling in reverse, controlled by a simple ballast.

My mother is queen of buttons. She shows off the prized ones.

David Lee

Salt provokes, tenderizes. Your wounds, your dinner.

Men are so delicate, must be given many portals. I try to be game.

The poem I can’t yet write saves itself for when it can’t be avoided.

If life was exchanged, who is to say it flowed one way?

A sociopathic streak on my father’s side I try to put to good use.

I have so many T-cells I’m afraid of forgetting their names.

I love it—watching gray light bleed out over the makeshift bed on the floor.

My soul is simple; it doesn’t think. Something strange paces there now.

Charlie wasn’t Lena’s first love, but he counted on being her last.

I tell my sister what I didn’t tell my father, I love you. Please, don’t die.

“Oh, Jesus.” It’s the greatest shame since 1929’s stock market.

Everyone they pass is consumed by some desperate interior story.

Ike’s voice left behind on the shore as Tina plunges in again.

I found Lowell’s gun a long time ago. He’s not a genius at hiding things.

Writing to you is like putting a note in a bottle, hoping it will reach Japan.

I should call my loves while I can to listen to the grackles croak.

When she gets to Lenny’s he offers her a beer and a bong hit...

“I don’t care how tired we are. I’m not not having sex on my wedding night.”

The strange man expected to be picked up by aliens during the eclipse.

It seemed to her that they only ever touched each other in transient, sudden ways.

His beauty comes from his power. I am as wary as I am drawn to it.

Definitely believe what you hear about the problems with painkillers.

A dead body leaned sideways against a wall. Its eyes were open.

References to and portrayals of hypocrisy, moral sloth, venery.

Buster’s reasons for looking after Marco weren’t entirely altruistic.

They all pivoted to face us, tan mannequins on a conveyor belt.