Labor: work is making. Work is making something that was never there before and having an investment in its production. That is, work is the business of making the world. Think what you have made. My mother made me, pushed my fat head from her stretched lips with a cry of doped pain and relief. […]
each marble tells certain stories I have while something else is cooking the books so in between you try frying me around sleep my heart still going from that treadmill at once in several stay with me I’ll say December colander clear ears you pushy loops back though war is never declared one long half […]
I suppose I’d asked the question, though my mother was certainly frank enough to initiate such a discussion, or to lead it there. It’s unlikely she said anything about “when a man and woman are married,” because I found out at seventeen that my six older brothers and sisters were all bastards, the folks having […]
I could have added them to bump the convo up they say Molly scrunch a sock in pocket you were the one to love mute odorous unquiet remembrance to fall over anything steel wool kiss toe line under Jesus come on in pieces of rope belt not to be seen out of all your friends […]
Imagine not just the scariness, but the magic of it, in the context of human history: that in the twentieth century a person can be deposited on a pinprick of dirt in the middle of a wilderness, and within three minutes – in the time it takes a kid to pee and zip up – […]
versions of women girls easy then off some swing free an empty park I have tight press being jogging asides gently freaking out just a little too hard wrist back teary do artists who die young know how I’m sorry often but not really at task you get stuck near corners paintbrushes can’t touch every […]
