my closest frat brother looks at the toad and says frog motherfucker. tackles me. fact: there is a certain kind of toad that by staying still can kill a drug dog. in this country, a man can sell doves from the back of a white van. a man can run out of doves. my ghost is obsessed with caterpillars. it doesn’t matter what you say. they found that woman.
animal then man then woman. god was the god of grief. one saltwater thing to another
why
a garden?
–
shadow
you unusable
rag
reactions to [Nothing Good Ever Happens After Midnight], poems by Sarah Marcus (GTK Press, 2016)
available here: https://guidetokulchur.com/nothing-good-ever-happens-after-midnight-sarah-marcus
thief
I can live knowing it goes missing. but, it being here, toppled from its rightful place…I can’t live knowing there are two. that it has no plural. that I have to say it twice. that I am asked on my deathbed about deathbeds in general.
–
bear
can we talk about bears. no, can you. that’s what I mean. I mean I want to listen. is there a bear I can learn about apart from the others?
–
panic
can we say muscle memory is the orphaned narrative of a bilingual body? that a house is so clean its rooms disappear? can we say home?
book, even?
the empty room released into the wilderness.
–
reader
this book by Sarah Marcus. while you still exist.
“Find a midwife whose name sounds like a spell.” – from Do-It-Yourself
“…Water
finds a way out. When I enter a
room, I locate water.” – from I Didn’t Know
“I research how to remove a body: a strange erasure, an omen.” – from Fetching Water
“Her dismantled den. Her dismantled den.” – from Den of Thieves
we’ve had trouble conceiving an ugly child. the stray will come back when it wants to play dead. name the third mother in Solomon’s nightmare. places I’ll never be
I’ll vanish
from
“Everyone you see
lives somewhere.
How is this done?” – Franz Wright
I am wearing a bomb and she is wearing a bomb. we are going to the same empty place.
hunger is a clock devoured by worship
the rabbit hole
burdens
abyss
mid polygraph, I lose
the baby
/ the loneliness
of its food
the rapist, day one: I have every photo I’ve ever been in. mom is a wreck. her and the dogcatcher keep mailing each other the same knife. death worries it will be made to visit the ghost it promoted. dad lets christ use the oven. I can’t get over this idea I have. an entire language to mask a word.
I pretended once to lose my memory-
the same day
you
