by Hunter Hodkinson He buries his woundedfangs deep into my chest and with a hesitant yank rips my still beating heart from me.I bleed out on the pavement watching him…
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The Sea’s One and Only Word
From the beginning, the sea
has been collaborating
with the bluff
In the Neurology Wing of Johns Hopkins Outpatient Center
“The boy with his shattered skull stitched
runs his fingers over the bridge
Van Gogh’s rainbow impasto arcs…”
Lydia’s Song
“it’s not good enough for anyone else to hear
just sing and knead and roll and press
my purple pleasure”
The Gathered, Made Ready
by Michael Dechane A yellow tomato comes apart at the seammy knife makes. This skin: how can it holdso well so much? I salt the weeping fleshthat reflects this morning…