
The moon painted a picture of me and she called it “hay.” The picture is my hair, sliced off from the ears down, tied with rope and slapped onto a clean, metal table.


The sun is sinking into the largest ocean and all my senses discovered its loss

it was coming out of your mouth we had to ask passersby to grab a cup and throw it to the birds it took 3 months to get all of it out

q. what’s the original dissonance? a. a nodding trigger q. what waits in the fleshly mouth, open? a. excavation by angel