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Tag Archives: poem
you will hold your corpse above him where his hair used to be Continue reading
What black lies in white with brown smudges?
what hands lie in wait for mixing colors?
I want to paint blue in front of you
hold services for your adolescence Continue reading
I’m rounded and warm on the table
a solid bowl for you
in the wake of your flesh leak, I think mostly of your eyes
the outline of the space between your give and my bite
or the shadow that follows the shape of you, when you’re facing me
now I am out and over, with a spoon
ready to be slapped or served to you Continue reading