April Fox

Category: asheville poetry

January 7, 2015

At the End

They will pick apart your life with tiny sharpened forks and throw away the ugly pieces…

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January 6, 2015

Something About Hookers

I think I might be catching some sort of disease My back hurts more than it should. I want my money back this isn’t what I asked for It costs more than I thought it would I’ve nothing left to give. Plastic bottles all lined up, thoughts in one personality in another dreams flushed down…

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January 4, 2015

January 4 2015

Wouldn’t it be nice if age crept up on us now like it did when we were small hidden behind smooth cheeks and shiny hair long sun-browned limbs and the eternal slowness of youth until it shone forth with some remarkable First A loose tooth, a love note, a wobbly two-wheeled flight into the grass…

asheville nc, asheville poetry, nc poetry, poetry, Uncategorized

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January 3, 2015

On Nico Stai and Falling Stars

I sent you pictures of the moon and we were corduroy and woodsmoke, constellations hanging over threatening to crash and burn us up…

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December 10, 2014

Like Icarus

…you can see them in the distance insects circling with rough and tattered wings careening off each other stupid, blind and insignificant fighting for the chance to fall…

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December 5, 2014

Stench

Early morning, waking alone in the cluttered nest you built the stench of last year’s sheets and last night’s desperation turn your stomach and the water on the bedside stand is gone, the glass left empty by the stranger who crept over you shameful in your flaccid state saliva like a spider’s web, linking you…

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November 23, 2014

Eleven twenty-three fourteen

…a book about the Grateful Dead the taste of fruit and whiskey…

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November 10, 2014

On Friendship and Cohabitation

“I’m not good at living with someone,” she said looking down at the floor. “I know,” I said. “I’m not either. But.” And I went home and waited for the song of tires on gravel folded myself into him, a tiny slip of paper in his palm.

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October 8, 2014

Half-assed Elegy

Shy at first, (the way you are when you begin to realize that your invisible friends and Santa Claus aren’t real but you make your lists and set out extra teacups anyway) I was hesitant to speak mumbled out into the dark and empty room the echo I imagined shut me up and turned to…

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October 1, 2014

Umbilicus

and all the times we’ve flattered ourselves into dreaming scars away, wishing lives into existence made of fog and manufactured hope malt liquor and memories strung charms onto rough hemp rope and graduated from the bottom of the middle class to find ourselves sitting on the crunchy lawn, stomping fire ants and drinking from the…

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