How the Lake Saved Me
I used to be a young girl, only 18, who had left the East—where I had neither much sinned nor been much sinned to—but had been often tired, and often...
from GLOCK CHORUS
My target’s face it was pockmarked
tho hidden by a sack of ice
tho hidden like a crooked account book
fell open where the hammer hit twice...
[obscenity for the advancement of poetry #6]
there’s a stitch in my rib it is mobile it has been there for a week it is hard not to lie
down with a stitch / secure all the rooms / sleep in front...