There it is — At 10:49 pm — That little two-note jingle From the ESPN app on my phone, The very mark of lame guy virility, The thing that never loads, Never posts full sentences, . Only pesters me As I make my ninth step Toward bed, when sports Might as well be Distended sloth […]

15. I hate that number. I rub noses with her. I see what she’s feeling, all across her face. She is my cherub, in bed with me on a rainy night and contouring to my body and then 15 seconds later, I think of it being over, which is just as bad as it actually […]

I look around for the RIGHT thing to do and That proposition itself melds Heat to people’s patiences Like raining giraffes kicking Furiously through the night, The legions of all hell on an Arc like shrapnel

How did you know What to do Humanity With the construction of your body With your ribcages like art and your Giant, Cancer-ridden breasts Given space, space where toothless clods Would try to penetrate but you Degraded the sky, Monitored people’s gender of motions and Celebrated nothing.