Ash Kemker
Herrum, king-nominate of the longland peninsula trots through blistering sand dunes scattered with sea oats towards the great saltwater...

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The Driver

I should also mention he was holding a gun. A friendly gun. A gun that belonged in a gun show or an old Spaghetti Western. In fact, everyone in the room had a gun.

January 7, 1972

Under othersong & chlorpromazine (—My pops’ more presentational than your pops) he hatched inside the inside of your drinking.

The Bed

After, when mom and I went home, everything felt too small. You don’t really know what to do with your body afterwards...

Four Poems

that smoke; detail of shears; detail of matches; i go to a hole in the wall carribean restaurant because their beans taste like my father’s beans...

The Armadillo

The old man told us to spend more time in graveyards and I will not I will spend more time with the armadillo because he shows me there is such a thing as un-sad

Wish You Were Here

I feel like I want to apologize for the quality of these postcards. I wish they had been better ones, and that I could have sent you images of sunsets and palm trees and dazzling flamingos.


Disney stuck an explosive in the mascot’s mouth, lit it up, then pop, smiled at his blackface in the mirror

Mermaid Camp

I’m an eel until I inhale water—then I am messy, lightheaded—like after too much laughing or kissing.


This language tastes like songs of my sedo and before, days when land was soft beneath bare feet, before bombshells bore into ground, before bullet skins showered seeds in the dust.
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"I have touched, you know, fantastic Floridas
Mingling the eyes of panthers,
human-skinned, with flowers!
And rainbows stretched like endless reins
To glaucous flocks beneath the seas."

–Arthur Rimbaud