Jun 2013
empty imagery
erasure poems write me from prison. I read them aloud in front of the mirror in my mother’s bathroom. a terrible mirror. I don’t know how my mother does it. she must have a good idea how she really looks.
empty imagery
I can’t tell if I’ve been thinking of my father all the time or if I’ve become lax in my selection. I am trying to reach him about the car. on paper, it’s totaled. the dog in the backseat surprised me. very solemnly I was informed the dog seemed pretty beat up before.
empty imagery**
my brother says it’s part of his condition that he can only explain himself from the waist down. he says he feels horrible in the back of his head and wants me to take a look. he says I don’t know what darkness is. before I can play doctor he remembers he has a story he wants me to write. the outline of the story is off site. in the opening scene brother recalls that a young man is blowing dust from a human skull made of plastic because it’s all the narrator can afford.
erasure poems write me from prison. I read them aloud in front of the mirror in my mother’s bathroom. a terrible mirror. I don’t know how my mother does it. she must have a good idea how she really looks.
empty imagery
I can’t tell if I’ve been thinking of my father all the time or if I’ve become lax in my selection. I am trying to reach him about the car. on paper, it’s totaled. the dog in the backseat surprised me. very solemnly I was informed the dog seemed pretty beat up before.
empty imagery**
my brother says it’s part of his condition that he can only explain himself from the waist down. he says he feels horrible in the back of his head and wants me to take a look. he says I don’t know what darkness is. before I can play doctor he remembers he has a story he wants me to write. the outline of the story is off site. in the opening scene brother recalls that a young man is blowing dust from a human skull made of plastic because it’s all the narrator can afford.
