Poetry

In this day and age only a fool goes looking for the lost city. Drunks and suckers, or worse.

Like the pirates and revolutionaries of legend, heads spiked
atop the great bridge spanning the great city, I am now a head
without a body. Maybe the body ran away while I was sleeping,
slamming headless into walls and doors. Maybe my body...

If you were to shoulder a heavy bat
& beat one today, many decades after—

I feel compelled to give you an ending, a promise of hope 

and all its straight-razor backroads planted with plaster 
farmhouses bowing to January’s muddy expanse

I can take even more 
Than he can give.

1. an investigation of wrecked arterial railroads hammered by foremothers
stationed beneath your breasts and headed
 crown-bound

Sometimes when I get
My period,
I wake up & my bed 
Is a massacre.

1. sharpening the white epidermis to machete on 
gum-grown whetstones belonging to inheritors 
of mitochondrial Eve’s Earth-blown nakedness

True domination means 
That all of the desires & impulses 
Come from the submissive;