bury them?
I don't want to kick up dust.


BulldogBulldogBulldog
The first time I meet my lawyer, John Budlong, his eyes blue and fierce as icicle daggers, I realize his name is a near anagram for Bulldog.
You have a drinking problem, Bulldog says as if naming a state capital, You know that, right?
I can feel my eyes widen. Mom's look like a dam the moment before bursting- the flood waters of sadness.
After the arrest, I didn't tell her for three days, stomach of rocks and lava. I'd burst into wakefulness early every morning, the shock of lightning sizzling in my brain, dress halfwa


Leash LoveLeash Love (No Homo)Leash Love
Here we are shirts off in the rain and I love you (no homo)
you don't know you're a poem.
You are graceless stains on my bedroom carpet-- Budweiser, Jameson in hot apple cider, screwdrivers-- each a unique dream-like shape, scents thick and sweet as syrup while we blossom loud and honest intimate blushing sex questions. Kinkiest thing you've ever done? I keep forgetting I fucked your sister once, thrashing through seventeen, in some righteous abysmal fury.
Your mother calls, then your girlfriend. So, you are innumerable toppled red sol


After Jumping Off the Roof..The doc sends you home with some glorious drug that rumbles your stomach, produces a swift, sweeping glow, a continual buzz that makes you think you suddenly know something.After Jumping Off the Roof..
Big. Your arm is big. Hand too.
You unravel the pink, pale bandages and reveal the bruise,
its little purple storm clouds,
covering the underside of your forearm spreading as if diffused in water, passing the bicep, almost up the shoulder. A bump juts out: the small mountain of your body, a misplaced second elbow. You touch it.
You touch it an


when I am the saddest woman inWhen I am the saddest woman in the world,when I am the saddest woman in
I sleep wearing only your brown hoodie and your white pooka shell necklace, my hands sneaking underneath and cradling
my belly, imagining I might be pregnant. Or I can feel your arm pulling me
against your chest, the other stretched under the pillow, holding my hand. The sofest, most delicate part of you nestled against my ass, my convex to your concave.
When I am the saddest woman in the world, I read television reviews and dance to
pop rock and ignore my inactive phone. I tape pictures to my wall, I look a


Three CheersThey rise out of the dunes The sands of time To overtake To destroyThree Cheers
The birds stopped whistling their happy tunes But it's too late to notice anyhow Nature was just a concept created by the romantics To entice, to pleasure To distract us from the truth
Life has gone underground To make way for a new age One in which even the simplest things have been reworked, reconstructed, Placed into a far more complicated system
We rely solely on this system Take it away and we'd have nothing left No where to run No where to slee


Strike OurselvesNature struck us like a drum Upon yielding fields with golden rum We are the blessed, we are the young we said We'll sing the songs once left unsung.Strike Ourselves
The rivers, swelling daily, run Away the children on their shores Away the daily changing sun again The calming night a lull restores.
Furrows in our lands and cheeks And kind old eyes that weep and blink And time is just a couple weeks but then We slow it down to think.
So we'll strike nature like a drum Upon yielding fields with spearmint rum. We said we are both blessed and young We'


may your breath be shortand your hands warm always.may your breath be short
may your eyes flutter closed so that you may sleep or may they look into the sun and drain like wells into your lap and down the inside of your legs.
may your tears then tickle your toes (because i pray that you are barefoot on a beach when this happens)
and may your hair grow hopefully, and longingly yearn for the wisdom in your hips ( a lyre )( a distant groan, from the sea's seam )( a rhetorical hymn howlin')
may the dead skin collected by your fingertips taste exactly like where you have been
--
And you all want the lovely music to save your lives
--
"He is my disciple no more. Beat the drum, my little ones, and attack him; you have my permission."
Why don't you join the poetry contest from [link] ?
It's free and every nitwit such as myself who enters gets a small gift
but someone like you might win one of their $10 000 or $100 000 prizes.
--
And you all want the lovely music to save your lives
--
"WE CAN'T STOP HERE... THIS IS BAT COUNTRY!"
--
"WE CAN'T STOP HERE... THIS IS BAT COUNTRY!"
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