February 12, 2018

Art by Collin Beck

Skinless

Love, amputated. How pins and needles feels oddly sensual, a phantom limb, if for only a moment, your body betraying your body. Limp and inescapable. Boneless. 

I stopped eating animal flesh when I felt the tendons connecting tissue with my ton...

January 11, 2018

Art by Valerie Chamberlain

Overhead Projector Focus Adjustment

I stopped writing about myself

Because they told me I didn't exist

They said they knew/know who I am/was

So I believed them instead of myself

Because it's what I'd always done.

We're in Andover-Morris 

They're stan...

January 2, 2018

Shaman Girl’s Calendar

On Monday I’m an eight-armed mollusk,

symmetric, with a slooshy beak.

I alter, reinvest my shape

to squeeze through rancid routines.

My Tuesday is a cheetah romp.

I tear zig-zagging errands,

my never-retracted claws

keep traction on the grounds.

On Wednes...

December 22, 2017

Art by Lily Bell

don't make me be the monster 

"we want something more than anger"

but sometimes that's all i feel

rage runs deep within me just as my love does

perhaps i don't quite articulate myself

like a lady

when it comes to everything that enrages me,

and i won't apologi...

December 18, 2017

 Art by Lily Bell

Girl with Hoop

   (after Rufino Tamayo’s Niña con aro, 1932)

O sailor where the sea

sidewalk cloud-colored

feet shod leather black

circumference gold

I still dream of diving

of stepping through 

and finding myself

a sky to wear 

               I would...

December 11, 2017

Art by Lily Bell

Tragedy of Your Dystopia

Your taste lingers ad nauseam on my tongue, my lips, 

my thigh, at the back of my neck, 

on the reckless lines of my palm, 

and in forbidden places one-too-many; 

where perfidies of Holy Scriptures cannot reach,

so you do not taste li...

November 29, 2017

Hair Cut 

Your mom was the kind of person

who forgot the leftovers on the stove—

she didn’t even flinch opening the door, 

my hands twist-tangled in your long, girl

hair, your striped, Target t-shirt crumpled

beside us on the floor—a small monument

to matching bodies, to hold...

November 29, 2017

From: the Earth

Hey, I’m starving

Would you consider

this bright-green

gum wrapper

plastic covered

capitalist bullshit

diet of dying

paper bags scattered

afterthoughts on the road

nutritious?

Do you want these

bottle caps
glass shards
silver chip bags and

still-smoking cigarettes?

N...

Saints with Issues

What is an insane asylum anyway?
Is it a brain or is it a building?

Is it someone else's interpretation

of someone else?

He said his dick was as long as

Pinocchio's nose.

She said, "You can't throb

your way out of purgatory".

Then they started

climbing...

November 27, 2017

BLOOD

Begins when you are ten.  Attack, surprise, 

you can’t defend.  A friend, they say, but do

they make you bleed and want to die? Disguise 

in black your need, the stain that says you’re 

through,

a girl that’s dead enough to grieve.  To wake 

in sheets as red a...

November 27, 2017

urcupoft

sit like a lady

be polite

have your cake and eat it too

but my red velvet 

is too rich

for your cup of tea

your cup of

legs crossed

black widow weaving an elegant cage

spiraling

like your favorite lady

that I am not

your cup of

lips swollen shut

bones drawn with chalk

jutting...

November 22, 2017

Vagina Fights Back

It’s itchier than usual, so I sit cross-legged 

on a crosshatched chair in a bright hallway, 

waiting on the lady doctor’s nurse to collect me. 

A bowl filled to over-flowing with red-wrapped condoms 

beside a pamphlet about first-time motherhood. 

I’m not...

November 22, 2017

foyer to elsewhere

free yourself but do not run

ring and circle     the world

of smoke             wisps falls

into        an encumbered

globe.

         glaze but always look

back at             the circle...

November 22, 2017

Still from House (1977)

“An Impromptu Visit”

Menacing space witch clad in barbed leather,

Jaw clenched, with orange eyes that shimmer and stab,

Chilled veins, and hair like a bouquet of feathers—

She broods on nightmares.  Her bed’s a concrete slab

Now that she fears sleepin...

November 20, 2017

transfiguration of the part-time girl

ah the grotesque

glamor of being a creature

spending the days alone
scuttling around the apartment

catching up on medications

subsisting on coffee & canned beans

browsing new shower curtains online

the comfort is crushing
the opposite en...

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