Jackson

the confrontationist warrior agenda the personal vendetta the entourage of quiet women “FUCK AUTHORITY FUCK THE POLICE FUCK COPYRIGHT FUCK THIS FUCK THAT FUCK YOU, CUNT” when you no longer use that word to mean disempower and that other one to mean victim then maybe I will believe Read more

I don’t see my shape anymore. It seems to have wandered off. No, I think I may have left it on a plane Poor stunted Can’t say a meaningful thing without a “!” between us and We look for and it takes either one certain or the world—or at least several roomfuls of These children… Read more

On the first day    at the beach I walk east into a howling Holding my black hat on my Then I go back On the second day it rains I work on my On the third day it’s calm I walk east again Flies diving in under my black Trying to get under my sunglasses Feet—only—in… Read more

He handed her a feather a tall black feather pulled from his tail, said take this home with you. Was that all he could spare? One feather? His tail and wings were ragged. Maybe he wandered around leaving a trail of feathers in this place and that place, the flicky ash of his personality, his… Read more

I’d like to talk to him. Say, “What the fuck?” Give him a chance to explain. Read more

It’s 35 minutes to midnight on the 4th of January. If I can tell you that this one room holds all candles— tapers, tealights, pillars, plain white power-outage poles, small votives for struggling souls, delicate dinner-party decoratives— in all scents— sandalwood, ylang ylang, rose, smoke, vanilla, mint, and many nameless synthetics, novel, teasing, but ultimately… Read more