luke-gagnonWhisper

American
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StarvingSitting in labyrinths of cobblestone intestines / I’m learning to eat the entrails of sacrifice / only domestic, never hunted.
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on deception (vignettes)1 4 / she offers me, a spot of dust / she raises me under the couch,
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expiration...*we are carbon, / ashes, / craters,
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In my library, there are 17 books1. I’ve whittled shelves into my body to try and bring an / order to things. All it did was make space. / So many shelves like staircases built in anger.
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hand grenade bodies, after Lisa Jarnoto hand grenade red bodies of loring park, / you paintings of hand grenade bodies, you bed / with bodies and kneading and needing red hand
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a SurplusI / in the dark starvation is real. / In dark, the emesis that fills my
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dear Luke,You cannot just give up religion for lent, / and expect no consequences. / I am in every moment you discard.
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maddnessFirst things first, / you’ll have to remove your hat and / the plank strapped to your limbs.
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Steeple BoyI built a room out of keys and locked doors / for a steeple boy. / Still, he shuts out the eyes of the people.
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out of placeI’ve diagnosed it with industrialized rickets, / stomach is open and distended / metal is bowed with greenstick
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