Jackson

At 3am. The messages. Something about coffee. A while later, a disclaimer. Coffee means coffee. What did he want? Probably nothing. Probably he types his message looking at my Facebook with his cock in his hand then after he shoots, retracts. To hell with that. But coffee? Three or four dollars a cup. Much cheaper… Read more

If I were a man, you’d call me brother. We’d drink beer sing songs read poetry late into the night But I have a body that makes you look. Legs arse tits babyface symmetry plump lips and that thing you have knows no language—only a wombwish drownwish cavewish deathwish You might be the man in… Read more

Pantyhose Tight top Slim skirt Mascara Hairspray Heels I can’t lie back on grass to watch the clouds I can’t sprint through the rain I can’t sit cross-legged on the railway platform when my hips hurt I can’t relax on the train: the seats face others and every second I check my legs are shut… Read more

The White Rabbit scurried past I’m late I’m late I’m late and she had to follow him why? I hated the story it went nowhere stupider and stupider creepy smoking caterpillar vicious Queen of Hearts horrible pigbaby and I only six what to make of it? and at the end the letdown it was all… Read more

In my dream there weren’t sixteen / lightly birded hedged picketed lines / There was only the edge of everything / The silicon lip of the precipice and you // on it / with your eyes / like the ice that’s about to melt … Read more

at 10am among the branches some crows gather for poetry Read more