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Sons of Salacia
Hold the hand of the one you love and stare God in the face at the end of the world.
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afforest
Concrete facades crumble, vines reach out and roots find purchase in the breaks between harold’s stanzas.
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your shame
Overcoming your own shame is hard enough, but how long can we shoulder someone else’s?
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biosignature
The measurable attributes of life. Substance and existence. A fleck in time and space.
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the death of me
Death makes its presence known, arriving in a mood or a state. Unpredictable and unkind.
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THE MORNING AFTER THE ORGY
“How to capture in words the way you look with your head thrown back onto the pillow & the sun streaming in through the window the morning after the orgy …”
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Action potential
“I woke up from a very sweet—but also wildly revealing—dream with a gah in my larynx. Dreams, non-lexical utterances and brain analogies seem to be my primary modes of expression/discernment at the moment, especially when it comes to love. I’d rather just kiss them.”
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back into the sea
“One hot and cold summer I decide: In the name of my family history, I dedicate my life to becoming undone.”
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Icebreaker
Coco seeks to break the ice and find what lies beneath the surface. “I like the raw relief of the skies spit – I don’t like exhaust melting down my spine.”
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AN EARRING
A butterfly clasp sits on the bedside table. Fluttering out from where it’s supposed to be and whispering the secrets it learned on the back of a lobe.
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I am Drunk at Soul Shack Again
“You get asked why so many of your poems end that way. And you’re like, ‘oh, am I the vore girl? Is that my thing now?’ “
Category: poetry
In a dream, you saw a way to survive, and you were filled with joy.
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