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 Feb 2015 bucky
KD Miller
Whitman
 Feb 2015 bucky
KD Miller
"whitman's for the white men" I laughed
marauding through the green squares
AL and I cursing the wind for
our bad lighters and
she laughed again too.
"don't you mean the whole Ivy League"

"yeah **** ****, curse the Caucasian
Patriarchy dude"
she spit drool on the grass by
Dillon

"yeah man I don't know, I'm a bit
nervous you know."
she looked like a pummeled cartoon ghost and I wondered why

then behind me I heard a Hi and
I said to her "uh... Remember the American Spirits" (she ended up getting me  newports)

I turned around and oh uh hey
back in his room explained to him what Imbroglio meant somewhat

hurriedly and then I knighted it the
Whitman imbroglio looking at the door map

This poem wasn't titled the way he suggested I should
But I think it's ok
 Feb 2015 bucky
robin
look me in the eyes oh my god please cut it all off,
my limbs have grown too long legs like ropes
anchoring me on a mortal plane.cut up careless fingertips, blood and sentience in a wineskin trap.
every day a dream in the way that makes you sick,christ is this real?
am i real?angles jutting in ways they shouldnt.everything bends the world bows to me
while i try to rip cataracts from my eyes.
this could be a hymn but its more of an envoi, a sacrament or a sacrifice -
honey i hurt all over please bury me at sea, the marsh is too full for me to fit NINETEEN YEARS OLD AND ON MY DEATHBED FOR THE PAST FIVE, KISSING CARNIVORES JUST TO TASTE THE BLOOD BURN OFF THE UVULA SO I DONT GAG PLEASE STICK YOUR TONGUE DOWN MY THROAT I WONT PUSH YOU AWAY THIS TIME, BLOOD
BLOOD
BLOOD & SWEAT & FIREWORKS, entoptic panoptic neurotic too heavy to move my hands,
shackled to a sense of dread, something is happening.something is coming.december salt,
drooling vitriol and vanity,
flooding the floor with apotheosis.suitheism soaking through my shoes.i am
unclenching, fingers uncurling like petals.feet deep in decomposing verses,
gospel of judas, gospel of mary.im blooming a sick flower: titan arum, corpse plant
GOD SPEAKS THROUGH THE FILM OF THE SKY TO DEEM ME UNWORTHY GOD PEERS THROUGH THE CRACKS IN MY HANDS THE FILTH BOILS AND I BLEED LIKE A BROKEN DAM ON THE BATHROOM FLOOR, THERE ARE HUNTERS IN THE WOODS AND YOU THINK OF THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN DEER AND HUMAN RIBS BREAKING YOUR WRISTS PROSTRATED BY SPEEDING CARS,OH, CHRIST! OH GOD! THESE TEETH ARE TOO SHARP FOR MY MOUTH AND MY LIPS ARE IN RIBBONS BURSTING LIKE MOLD FROM THE GAPS IN THE FLOOR, YOU THINK THERES HONOR IN BLOOD ON THE KNUCKLES YOU THINK THERES GLORY IN PUNCTURED LUNGS, shrapnel summers damp & hot like
cotton against your bleeding gums,
shivering in august sun.yellowed bruises like old bones, stained teeth,
varying stages of illness.dry throats begging for salt.your milksop mouth,
chipping your teeth on glaciers, apologizing to the arctic you never meant to grow so cold
you never meant to turn so sour, STICKING PINS THROUGH PHOTOGRAPHS I AM TRYING, I AM TRYING, I SWEAR TO GOD IM TRYING OH MY GOD GIVE ME THE RAPTURE LEAVE ME CONVULSIVE ON AN EMPTY EARTH SEE THESE RUPTURES THESE WOUNDS ARE STIGMATA I AM HOLY I AM HOLY I AM HOLY I AM CROWN-DEEP IN THE MARSH WITH AN OPENED MOUTH YOUR HANDS ON MY WAIST MY THUMBS IN YOUR EYES IS THIS WHAT YOU WANTED IS THIS HOW YOU THOUGHT ITD BE, YOU SUPINE ON THE RIVER FLOOR AND I THRASH IN THE DALLES I WEAPONIZED MYSELF,
i carved all my soft edges into things that ****, shocked when i became
alone. i made myself into a knife and now i dont know why everyone i touch
bleeds. is this how it feels to burn alive? is this how it feels to burn alive? is this how it feels to burn alive? is this how it feels to burn alive? is this how it feels to burn alive? is this how it feels to burn alive? is this how it feels to burn alive? is this how it feels to burn alive? is this how it feels to burn alive? is this how it feels to burn alive? is this how it feels to burn alive? is this how it feels to burn alive? is this how it feels to burn alive? is this how it feels to burn alive? is this how it feels to burn alive? is this how it feels to burn alive? is this how it feels to burn alive? is this how it feels to burn alive? is this how it feels to burn alive? is this how it feels to burn alive? is this how it feels to burn alive? is this how it feels to burn alive? is this how it feels to burn alive? is this how it feels to burn alive?
 Feb 2015 bucky
KD Miller
she never actually knew what
she was, living in a sort of
twin peakish sourland town

by the river by herself
she painted her lips black?
was it black?

cut her bangs uneven and then
some.
no one really likes going to lambertville too much.

her friends stopped hiking
or maybe they stopped inviting
her or it's probably the summer is gone

a whole block of time
makes you wanna **** yourself huh?
anyways no one ever goes to Lambertville.
For ***
 Feb 2015 bucky
Chris T
I will soon devour the sun
on my quest to become
the brightest thing
this side of the galaxy.
 Jan 2015 bucky
Megan Grace
egret
 Jan 2015 bucky
Megan Grace
i can only love in splinters,
in tsunamis.
i'm having trouble with today.
 Jan 2015 bucky
Megan Grace
(I)
god i don't know if we'll ever
match up quite like we did then
when you were just skin and a
pair of boxers under my hands
and you smelled like cold
chicago air

(II)
i packaged up
my heart after
the last time, after
him, and i was trying to
mail it to myself but i think
some part of it got mixed up
with the cd i sent you so did it
end up at your doorstep did
you put it in your pocket
did you slip it in an
envelope marked
"RETURN TO SENDER"
because if you do not
want it i would like
it back
 Jan 2015 bucky
KD Miller
10/3/2014

at high noon, and
i think, high tide
She looked up at the shy pisces sun, which is never brilliant,
tripped over a brick, traced her long shadow on the sidewalk
with her finger in the air
and i had to remind her I was standing right behind.
she'd say "right, that you are" I was tempted to
add that I wasn't quite sure about that.

I noticed our shadows were contorted, stretched
like papyrus,
I was remembering how she'd announce at times with no
order: "I am happy" or "I'm sad" while watching T.V.
or walking down the lane.
But now she didn't quite seem to say much.

And I was always asking "Amy you happy? Amy you sad?
Amy you OK? Amy you fine?" Amy you ok? Amy you ok? Amy you ok? Going well? Fine?
It was like that

we held hands in a modern art museum is how we met
"It's a good picture," she had noted of "My Grandparents, My Parents and Me".
I had looked sidelong to its neighbor, a picture of a trashcan
trying to desperately scream about some societal ill
lost in translation forever.

I had already given up when she had given me a 'goodday'
I didn't care about seeing her anymore
but it still hurt.

My name? Jane. Bryant Jane. Born a man
or at least Earth Planet tells me my parts belong to a boy, whatever that is.
In second grade kids teased me and I went by my middle name
as a form of protest against them.

Looking back, I was feeding them.
Or was i starving them?

I read once the name Jane is considered bad luck
in English royal life
I entertained this just as I did my taut masculinity
this 'girl' Amy found it cute. but

remember how i had ended up asking for her opinion on everything in the end?
because she would not say it on her own volition?
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