Poetry

I was exquisitely thin, having just mowed the yard. I was hungry, but put off eating to lie in the grass by the paddle boat dock. The summer feeling I want to pay

Seamus Heaney + Kanye West Baby, I’ve been feeling you like a theme song since I stepped off that off-brand city bus & onto this funky street where I get my gentlemen on,

The streetlight, white as copy paper, tilts between the tree’s big arms, slides out like spilled wine: I think it is the moon for twenty minutes. Above us, stars are marking steps

All night my alarm waited, spiked with excitement, looking forward to buzzing me awake when I wanted to stay asleep, buried under a pillow. It had a job to do, and it was

Don’t talk to me about options or what it is to tolerate treatment. When I say kill the cancer, I mean I want it dead. Slash it, burn it, poison it without