Asheville poetry – April Fox

August 3, 2020

Ain’t so Real

(They tell us) Real women have cuuuurrrrrrrvesssss -Gotta draw that out real slow, let the word trace along the edge of the Fat thighs, round hips, breasts like balloons every little boy want to die in Real women look after themselves, legs like stilts that hold up the pedestal balanced there, low flat belly, chest…

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November 13, 2015

Coyotes (November Thirteen Twenty-Fifteen)

The night’s too dark to see, but I can hear them walking in the field next door: coyotes their steps like broken straw, breath I imagine stale with the taste of carrion their cries a bit more mournful than before as if they know that they’re no longer the ugliest among us.

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October 20, 2015

After Life

Someday, it will be the end. It will be over and if you believe in Heaven, I will rip you from your mother’s warm embrace pull out the thick umbilicus and strangle you with the only thing you ever truly wanted watch you fight the blackness that creeps into your eyes, bursts of light, the…

poetry

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October 1, 2015

Elegy for a Failed Killer

His hand on the back of my neck makes everything you are irrelevant.

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September 28, 2015

Windows

In every window, there are shadows tiny girls with paper hair and twisted legs feet stuck out at unnatural angles pointy elbows and crooked teeth and eyes like telescopes, watching everything. They are armed with bats and chains and metal pipes they are grown to ten feet tall they are tongues untangled, mouths unclenched they…

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September 11, 2015

Pillbug

“I don’t care what you think of me,” he shouts into his megaphone, short fat body like a pillbug all rolled up and just as smart words like stagnant water, they have no substance no ability to hurt or to wash anything away “I don’t care what you think of me,” he shouts garbled speech…

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September 6, 2015

Vintage Christmas

I have paid a thousand hours penance for her spun silk hair and faded blue eyes sliced my voice on the shattered glass of fragile Christmas bulbs golden stars and sparkling orbs, blue and red and green and touched with glitter in the center of something plastic, the holy parents pray over the lifeless molded…

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September 3, 2015

The Latest Book

For those of you who are interested in such things, here’s the new book: a collection of some of my most controversial work, including “A Love Letter to Pat Robertson” and “Mother Whore and the Monsters on the Hill.” As always, thank you for your constant support. I appreciate you all more than I can…

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August 8, 2015

Prom Queen [Not Autobiographical]

I never could have been the prom queen, perfect hair and teeth and nails, smiling sweetly for the cameras humble under my sash and crown and waiting for the crowd to blink and offer up the chance to pull the flask out from between my legs beneath the satin curtain of my dress. I was…

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August 6, 2015

Lost Dogs

This feels empty as if the dogs have all gone home and left us to our own devices, on our own to deal with the monsters and the maniacs hiding in the shadows and even with the lights all on, the television blaring comedy and news into our deconstructed brains, there is a silence and…

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