Poetry
Winter 1992
Rut
I feel like a baby reading a paper, an enormous stranger pounding between my legs. She flies, a wolf, she is green sizzling, remarkable she talks my sex talk she […]
Poetry
Winter 1992
Untitled
I always put my pussy in the middle of trees like a waterfall like a doorway to God like a flock of birds. I always put my lover’s cunt on […]
Poetry
Winter 1992
Closing up Shop
Those two calls sum my existence up. I creep into the smallest kind of day: October and it’s cold. Heat from the radiator makes the landscape wiggle. Thank god, those […]