Check out the new issue of Jellyfish Magazine, with peeps like Seth Landman, Joshua Ware, Leora Fridman, and Thibault Raoult:
Ah, someone stole the back tire off my new bike. What a jerk. Looks like I'll be walking this summer.
Rodney King died yesterday, found in his pool. I'm sad. I can't explain the sadness.
Check out The Aviary: http://www.theaviaryonline.com/essay.html
Are We All Reading Books Waiting for Someone to Talk to Us?
Splash me with blood, with wings
of yellow jackets, with infested
lecterns. Books squish
the nectarine in my bag
& snack juices into extinction.
We're something else outside, inside
this whirring hour, the economy
of sound. Bees higher than pollen
could float. What is a research rut?
Or a break from studies? Turn over
the book. I remember the first person
I was afraid to love. Or rather,
how-I-loved lost to the fear-of-sex-parts,
the uncontrolled. To manifest, yes.
I see through paper, leaves,
the face, to the back of your bold blood.
How the chalk on my hands
used to be words. I'm not afraid
to die, I just don't want to yet.
Ice-cream & grass stains belong
to children. A book props my head
above the green & its drafty prongs. Once
I was afraid of judgment & now I'm not.
Nothing belongs unless we want it to.
The ache, the ache, the ache, yes sonically.
Sear fruit to our blood, gasp & gasp back.
I see bees high-fiving leaves.