Tag: Spring 2016

Badlands / The Lakehouse

You’re tempted to find God in every abandoned landscape:
twist of black road snaking through dry grass, shroud
of white hotel cotton, blank heaven that cannot conjure
cloud.

Bravado

It’s good to be incendiary, lit up,
Sparked heel to crown.

Three Poems

Generations are contained
in her wrist bones, in whether she can
constrain the nature of the bird.

Three Poems

Today
I got my legs waxed. I needed someone
to hurt me a little.

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