From the 2018 Collection "The Dead Dog Parish"
I was down for a minute had to get served out can’t take what’s mine All the money in The World
Hollow fang? Volcano. Cat’s purr? Hymnals. Intuition?
Torus, it’s shaped like, hang on, the number is as large as the planet.
Black Mirror Obsidian Infinite gaze Hideaway of prototypes Mental, Causal larvae
The choir of the saints is heartle… They’ve parried happiness a lifeti… seeking the old earth, the marsh of the meek— where earnest suffering is woven w…
As a child I saw the meaning in n… I beheld the color code. I would dream of my bed whirling, I would feel my bed spinning. To take a birth here is a hard fal…
In your gut is an empire— Spells, tug of war, Holy Days, ascent, decline.
The ravens were about me and I felt as though I moved with the… Full am I, too, of grace and inst… Knowing the wind can tell a secret… being a vastness of numbers,
Like a distillation column, as I lighten so does my company, but it’s been the perfect quiet. So why cry violence? You can keep such good company
Their adversaries’ heads were placed in a Styrofoam icebox and it still wasn’t dissuasion eno… The chase of supremacy lingers until the farthest reaches…
I’ll give you what I got, I can part with it all. I have gifts— A silk tongue,
The bar room is a bed of embers fanning themselves expediently, huddling to outlast the dark. A whoosh of autumn air ruffling their complexion each time
Pretend like your hell is the new normal. Now the space is calm, and poignant, and telling.
I remember the hosts, the factory of structure, each angelic order sized with even number, cascading fractal
The moon lulls me as I wade through poppy fields, dragging limp hands behind me, catching each pod long enough before it snaps upright again
