vagabondcitypoetry

find the scrapheap. 1998 hardtop jeep wrangler, lapis blue — more of a dirty yves klein now — but really, any old car works. tear it to pieces. scrap metal of the gods. stack armour on armour on skin. chrome grill on car door on collarbone. shred the passenger seat — remember that? where you […]

your hair’s wet because we went night swimming the mothlight furring my forehead together and pulsing with the spectral heave of the moon these tides knowing me the way i know myself pensive and cold and slick along the insides. hoarse siren song and the fuzzy swan-curve of my neck the waves carving me into […]