whatever is interesting
in these places
is always happening
somewhere else
and i am a settler
not usually a seeker
the private theater
i conjure
through impairment
a trick of inebriation
decades in the making
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Exhausted Hotel Rooms By Trish Saunders
The sound of your shoes dropping, thwack! and another thwack! tells me our careful trestle has collapsed, our ...
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lemonade hair dead and deflated thin like a bleached ghost; mascara rings fat as a star pitcher’s eyeblack; she cracked her broken finger ba... -
Once he spoke the indirect speech of men, as if making bar bets after third drinks that become sincere, become angry, mean. Just his half jo... -
Diamond hair Bathe in bourbon and butter You are my Sunday prayer You are everything You are all You are life Rita S. Spalding has had poem...
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