I hope you never read my poems. / I do not care for the sweet wine you serve / warm from the pantry, or the email you sent / about a savior at the supermarket.
Long (dragon) Once skin teaches you body’s not to feel with it grows to solve other problems fires get tired of burning every bed they’ve been in down ashes look…
Eat the Sinew’s Disbelief You will never be great, no shirt, no shoes, no servitude. Just a regular Joe, Josephine who walks around, has thoughts, and makes way for Whitman.…
Deer between fallen branches Snow fills the eyes of the winter animal. She’s like a photograph of himself as a child, feet dangling over the side of a boat, skimming
Transparent to Visible Light Across the seas, and then across the seas, an aircraft carried full and whole a world: as far apart as their fair hostess could achieve sat…
Ode to Government Cheese The streets are alive with your radioactive smile, your distinct glow, not quite pumpkin, not quite squash, not quite orange; no, not anything organic.
Missed Connection You: Bartender at the left wing bar, sleeves rolled up, preaching happiness, Fredrich Nietzsche. Small scar across your chin. We high-fived, nodded about get-out-the-vote rallies, about Gore, Clinton,…
Jena Osman’s The Network was the Rumpus Poetry Book Club selection for November, 2010. You can read Brian Spears’s essay on why he chose the book here and the Rumpus…