they kill each other as much as they can

 

they maneuver, their bodies

a fleet of submarines—

launching, from their mouths,

torpedoes 

to collide into refugee bodies:

 

blood attracts a frenzy of sharks.

it is too easy. to kill

who they don't want;

the ocean tidies these desecrations.

 

they must be the loneliest

to murder. to murder

the people, they must love

their loneliness.

​

​

bloodletting

 

to all the poems

i didn't write, or wrote

but butchered

instead of saving—

i deleted some of you

as quick as blood

can leave a slit in the neck:

struck through your words

like igniting a match,

quick, & with precision.

i didn’t try to edit

your body

but instead i took the knife

& cut out your pronunciations,

erased you from existence,

& made everyone

forget you existed. not even

an explanation could bring

a justification with how i

omitted you from the page,

& then, like a boogeyman,

wrote over your corpses.

​

 

the awful rowing toward marriage

 

i touch the velvet

of the antler.

 

i touch the antlers—

the velvet

like my husband’s legs.

 

my husband’s legs

velveted & antlered.

 

i put his legs around my legs

& we fight, crashing

 

for dominance.

​

 

poem of ignorance & tolerance

​

 

1)

​

 

i waiver in the minds of pathetic beasts

trying to destroy any sense of humanity

curling their lips in o’s like barrels—

they shoot their words as hard as confetti

 

they want to wound, so badly, a man

standing on his moral ground

that they knock themselves out

with their own explosive mouths

 

they are preachers, coiled at church,

telling his congregants that we have dominance

over the poisonous snakes

& if we believe, their bites won’t kill us—

 

to question is to be dragged through sewage

& depleted of any moral obliquity;

people are led to the cliff like pigs

& told jumping is baptism & heaven

 

is at the bottom & god waits

for his most devout servants.

​

 

2)

​

 

cum drops on the floor

cum drops on my chest

cum drops on my hand

cum drops on my face 

cum drops to taste 

​

 

3)

​

 

your poem is a pathological liar

​

 

4)

​

 

they walk, heads full of smog,

& a façade masking their faces

that morph into billboards.

 

their ears seep pollution.

it kills the fresh air & trees.

birds fall into the streets

like the bombs they masturbate to.

 

they drag their feet

& forget scripture:

they manipulate

to comfort their hate:

 

our prayers are the only words

god hears. we sing to him

& he grants us forgiveness

for genocide & erasing history.

​

 

5)

​

 

the queers shoot fireworks

from their cocks & light up

the nightclub with orgasms.

​

 

6)

 

​

the poor argue as witness

for the rich defendants

 

agreeing wage theft is equality—

​

 

7)

​

 

somewhere there is a poem

performing an abortion.

 

somewhere there is a poem

paying money for a blow job.

 

somewhere there is a poem

being raped for what she wears.

 

somewhere there is a poem

that hung himself because he’s gay.

 

somewhere there is a poem

that will shoot up a school.

 

somewhere there is a poem 

abused by their mother.

 

somewhere there is a poem

that voted for their own demise.

 

somewhere there is a poem.

​

 

the collapsation of feet

 

after your feet by pablo neruda

after blue yodel of her feet by frank stanford

 

i cannot. your face

looking at your feet—

 

the arched bridge

that made you stumble.

 

somehow they supported

our tremendous weight. 

 

we finally collapsed.

you waste, and you’re trembling.

 

the double-breasted

beast in your chest

inflames the sockets of your eyes.

there is a fire.

 

your mouth opens—

a chimney releasing smoke.

 

red coals

building in the tower

of your body

 

and your feet

become ash—

they walked

until they could no longer.

 

wind carrying you

the rest of the way

 

and i, planted in bad soil,

 

lose you.