listen mother, he punched the air: I am not your son dying …
D. A. Powell
turns out …
if you didn’t mind the bible …
Where we could be boys together. This region of want: …
this is the track I've had on REPEAT all afternoon: she is butterfly …
were lifted over the valley, its steepling dustdevils …
had no direction to go but up: and this, the shattery road …
shepherdboy? not the most salient image for contemporary readers …
and yet we think that song outlasts us all: wrecked devotion …
to say no more of art than that it makes, by its very distraction …
febrile body I woke into: nightsweats, stink of the toil of living: …
either the postagestamp-bright inflorescence of wild mustard …
the pope has his cardinals …
Firstly to confess lack of nearly all perspective. …
Who needs a scary movie when there’s scary life. …
I play the egg …
“Anyway, it isn’t forever,” Chris said, …
How is it that you hold such influence over me: …
soon, industry and agriculture converged …
spread millet in this neighborhood …
don’t talk to stranglers …
let’s say you want flowers …
kiss …
I can only give you back what you imagine. …
We hadn’t got color up till then. And if I had a nickel, why, that was for milk. Milk money: the money a body gained. …
the bare-backed barback …