Poetry

Exits

Names and Living Things

Fire

My Dead

Yellowjacket

Sneezing in Nines

November: Moving Inland

Excerpts from Criminal Sonnets: XXIII

Excerpts from Criminal Sonnets: XXII

Books

The Kitchen Gods

Who Runs the Country

Pussy

The Arsonist

The End of the Vacation

With the right combination of numbers, a phone discharges .22 caliber rounds, and that’s enough to silence the witnesses. Bedposts fall under “less spy, more convenient” and can be wiped clean. …

I have a bird in my mouth. He can’t get out. His wings and head keep struggling. Everybody notices bulges in my cheeks and asks what’s wrong. Rfmmrmff I say. I can’t seem to open my mouth wide …

And because you’re not an antelope or a dog you think you can’t drop your other two limbs down and charge toward the Eternal Heart. But those are your legs too, the ones that have hauled your …

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