pottery 2007-present

Inventory: Dream Map, Minor Key
Companions: Crow, Magpie

I write w/ freewriter


come on, this is a class, how much time do you think i have to do this stupid story?

i can sever my mind from
my wicked posture and
my plum breasts. when i do,
they dangle gracefully.

you fucking kids
think a samba is a languid groan
from an elevator, mostly inaudible
over the raps and slaps of
you kids fucking

when you grow up
have three wailing white children
plastic siding a block away from the local airport
and a grimy dive for squawking birds
it would be a fucking honor
if anyone called you an easy listening classic.