Poetry

self portrait as chinese typewriter

my father asked me for futures / i only have the word for solitude.

at the end of the earth, i find {}

// mother asks if i have a girlfriend // i respond with an assemblage of stones in my throat //

I am holding this for you: cento

using lines drawn from Richard Siken, Crush and The War of the Foxes

mother, your favorite tiki bar-

for Nat

Citrus

The vacuum of space / smells like peeled oranges

the gyre

sometimes late at night at work I think about putting myself through the vegetable dicer

LINE BREAKS (at GUARDRAILS)

the sitting and waiting / is killer