Confessional Poem I fucked your husband and I don’t feel __bad enough for the bourgeoisie. My sexuality roughly translating into teenage vampire, __my blood a pop song programmed to some…
I’m spending National Poetry Month at the Millay Colony, former home of Edna St. Vincent Millay. My colleague and friend, poet and writer Jen Fitzgerald, will be writing the Mixtape…
nectarine & leather (riot) we said they’d never miss it our skin is twisted as harvest & smells like summer all day I hungered outside for something that is not…