December 2010
5 posts
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What dwells beneath the summer dress.
“If you’re going to want to come inside me, things are gonna get complicated” And so it begins, the search. Frantic, mad scanning for placement, purpose, fulfillment. I’m a hydrogen molecule, splitting and dividing all over the lab, give me a test tube. No, not the chest, that’s too post-modern pornographic and no, not the belly, that’s too prenatal-sentimental...
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Ode to the Uvula (a poem about food poisoning)
Rebirth! A slow, sick, welling deep within me. See the beauty is that you have to completely give up. You cannot maintain grace or posture while vomiting. You close your eyes and clutch porcelain and gag and jerk and hell you might even pray, why not? You work in reverse through meals. The acidic twist of tomato, the sharp prick of onion, the warm sugary blanket of milk. It’s...
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