tuesday nights: fold tiny paper birds smudged white ignore phone numbers i’ll never text tie off lovers like old stories with a string i’ll crown myself jeweled with flowers hide my face cross out the name of you like a to-do list make vows for tomorrow, to growl alone. Stephanie Valente lives in Brooklyn, […]
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It’s a chain link all the times I told myself to dig in and forced a simpler phrase my muscles are sore and stringent and you ask me what the hell this means it’s a system of grabs and takes eventually you learn to move in tune to smaller steps. A night falls on you like […]
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when i move to the city you do not follow the subway goes by and sometimes i catch the smell of newly cut grass the only bars i go to are ones you went to in 1997 the only heartbeat that shadows mine is yours here is a broken glass here is a phone call […]
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stretch the hours before giving in ignore the pounding / lump in my throat cross my eyes pretend it never happened suck it all up this is how i want to look i hold the sinking flesh with cusped hands see myself spread thin count how much it takes to burn an entire body / […]
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All of my friends from California call on the same day and everyone I know has a reason to go back to Boston. A week ago I was next to you; there is no luxury in this retrospect. Today, I take two trains an hour to Brooklyn to hear people read in soft voices under […]
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VAGABOND CITY 