New poems up at the wonderful and bloody 13 Myna Birds, which might just be one of my favorite online journals ever, and not just because I'm in it. Selections:
When I hold on, I hold on,
though I walk around like other people,
all blood and glasses. My softness
still hangs from your eyes. I am
out of sun. I envy your mouth.
hurts me more than the old Buick,
more than new lovers come-hither
as cats do. I open my whiteness
until it pools. My softness hands
from the gap in my head.