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Poems

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  • Against Surrealism | Anima

    The human heart weighs ten ounces, but I don’t know if it can float. I don’t suppose it makes sense to say I feel like

  • Notes on an Illness in Spain & the grist of gratitude is like ingratitude

    The sinuous ripple of a well-broken in fan, a soft hand

  • Calendar

    Some people, after the day

  • The homeless roamer translated from Dutch by Arno Bohlmeijer

    Someone says I don’t know and the whole

  • Cry

    Bring back our dresses untorn

  • Self-Portrait to Be Used in Meditation | 22 | Chesty Morgan and Her Crazy-Ass Titties

    I have a live owl in my mouth instead of words;

  • It’s the stage of grief where [I become a transparent eyeball]

    I become a transparent eyeball. I am nothing. I see all.

  • Poem in the Old Style

    At the beginning of the play Hecuba was mourning her great losses. She made lists, blamed the Gods: they could

  • Three Dances | Early Warning System

    In North Carolina

  • Aspect

    The spirit’s simulacra have obtained

  • Cardinal

    The drill of its song    the whoop whoop whoop

  • Lobsters | Turkey Vultures

    In the depths of the sea they will eat the sea and outgrow the world’s largest pot.