...but I'm sure it would only be more of the same.
~M


Knock Knock So now I live the story I made up for myself,Knock Knock by ~anarchypress
and I stare like a crocodile
at the fishhooks of your handwriting
or the curve of your hip
in a digitized photograph,
or listen to a reproduction
of your voice reciting fictions
just for me,
or I watch pixels on my computer screen mimic
the way your lips move
or your hands gesture
or your head cocks
or your forehead or cheeks
or the corners of your eyes crinkle. I try to find you
in these things, salvation
in salvaged bits and pieces. I sew them
into a quilt and crawl beneath it, bury
myself in its warmth
until the cold seeps through.
All these words, and they can't explain
a


This Was Meant to Be a Poem This was meant to be a poem, but as I typed it, oneThis Was Meant to Be a Poem by ~anarchypress
of your songs came on the radio. It happens like that.
I don't have cancer, and it doesn't seem to matter.
The stitches came out today; the shaved flesh
already reforests. Soon only smooth pale scars
will remind me.
Still I am sad. In my roots. Under my skin. Like a
secret. Like a cancer.
I imagine that, when the coroner opens my corpse
(one day), he'll whistle low at how it could have gone
on for so long and not kept me from living.


What the Pygmies Taught Me I'm an opportunist. I takeWhat the Pygmies Taught Me by ~anarchypress
what is offered. But when you part those
lips and let your secrets drool out
onto my breastbone,
stickying me over
like an old plastic honey bear, I can't help but want
to wrap my fist in your hair
and empty out the rest.
And I think about that time when I can show you
what the pygmies taught me:
how to weave a rope out of jungle vines
and tie it to a deadfall,
how to noose the leg of an elephant
one hundred times my size,
how to wait with such patience
until, tired (so tired), the knees
buckle,
and you
stumble
under the gravity of words.
And in my mind's eye, I watch them swarm
over that te


Reasons Why I Will Never +Reasons Why I Will Never by `queenhrosie
Because it does not matter - eventually,
a woman will be listening to me talking
about love and lust and the way
my husband and I used to curl into each
other as if we were eggs. The woman
will like this, touch her facial bones lightly.
Thunder will rise on her cheeks like
embarrassment or love. And at that moment,
there is a motorcycle driving slowly
onto her driveway and she will not hear
it because I am saying, "love is craving
that muscle to be worked over like
dough," and this man is breaking the glass
at her front door and she will not hear
because I am loud, saying, "I have run
my he


I'm Getting New Tits +I'm Getting New Tits by `queenhrosie
Robot tits. Tits that cut your face
sideways, then throws the cheek into
the sea. I'm getting a very short skirt,
a lopsided t-shirt that shows a little nipple
without being overt or intentional. I'm
getting a crevice between my tits and in
between that crevice, I will smash men.
I will slip men into my hair and shadows.
I will ram the occasional woman between
my tits as well, like an earthquake or
a string of old pearls. I'm getting brand
new fucking perfect tits. Tits that people
can die over or kiss under or study like
geology or weather or deformities in
ch
Ghosts Haiku by `Anavah
--
Till the sea,
Till the sky,
Till your eyes run out of dye.]
--
A storm is rising.
~M
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