Worm on a String, What Will She Do

Worm on a String, What Will She Do

I want to Bernie me own corpse for one last stand when all the stakes are gone. I want to hoist my arms to my legs and my legs to my arms, rolling round tied and bound through eachother to my core. Set up, propped up, a puppet cut free and tangled hanged and whole....
TORTURE THROUGH THE AGES

TORTURE THROUGH THE AGES

There are years to go in this life of be- coming. Still much to bleed in offering. Pull sweater thread until the guts fall out —more so, whatever lie has been assumed. Whisky tastes better over ice, dashed ale, love lost heals after—hasn’t happened yet. Though now I...
After the Hurricane

After the Hurricane

I name my hurricane ‘Vulture’ after myself in blatant defiance of the World Meteorological Organization’s aim to divide the dwindling spoils between the sheltering flies and me. I glimpse the mud hollow below. There’s equality in a tremulous storm. Mansions crumble,...