The old blue slide will be missed. Girlhood runs to the river and ends in the cold, fishful waters. My best friends are penguins smoking weed in Bermuda. My best friends are narwhals holding a beach party in Marseille. My best friends are a collection of yellow pills with “Take in Case of Unbearable Pain” written on the label, and I do. My girlhood was a tender thing at the fringes of polite society, feral and always wondering where home was. Now I follow prescriptions, pain, my dayglo God.
Month: May 2026
Smells Faintly of Freedom
Music is the most mortal art form. A song dies and resurrects over and over in the thin cyan air. Poetry lives forever. My poems are drinking wine in a stranger’s cellar, making love with the darkness while the sprouting potatoes watch. Art is the mess on the back of the wall when I blow my mind out with a 22. So many colors. A cornucopia of textures and scents. The best art smells faintly of freedom.
Letter K
K is the wettest letter, black with red polka dots and wearing her sick yellow rain slicker. K dances the Charleston, and she pop,lock, and dropped it on my front yard with her pet penguin. K is a rose bush hugger – a brutal job, but she’s sharp enough to puncture back if she wants. Roses know she’s coming when they smell strawberry soda and old makeup. K will never lie to you – but she might omit a few key details. When is the end of the universe? She knows, but for your sake she won’t tell you.
Miniature Moon 