SuICIdE, iT’S a SuiCIDe

I won’t ever / get       their trying to grab a gun if they’re not completely committed to shooting

Birds and shadows on a brick street.

Two Poems

Before a screw in the rail broke the skin / on my hand as I told my brother not to open / the door for anyone.

black and white image of four mannequins

from Leafmold

A bottle of barbeque sauce and amateur psychology. As executor, I followed the bullets, quivering, a little wide-eyed but unpunished.

Photograph of an interior corner of a room with a rattlesnake


Hasn’t everyone wished for something that is sure to maim them? Hasn’t it beckoned you home?