Corium

Read a poem from "The Missing Town" here. It's a Very Short Fiction, there. There are other things to read, there. Which are good. Read it all, why don't you?

First Contest

Just submitted to Rattle's poetry contest. I hope my poems pull on each of their strings attached to each of their internal organs, leaving a huge feeling-mess all over the floor.

In other news, increasingly more journals won't accept poems that have already been published on blogs, so I'm not sure if I'll be posting my stuff anymore. I'll continue with publication updates and maybe some other writing related updates every now and then, instead. Sorry to those of you who have enjoyed reading my poems here.

Hello. Here is my first post-graduation post/poem. God, I hope someone still reads this shit.

Sprouts

I walk into the kitchen. Two little sprouts grow out of two new cracks in the tile. I make myself eggs but end up giving them to the sprouts. I give them glasses of water and they grow into plump little trees. I lie down on the kitchen floor to go to sleep. The trees grow fat fleshy bellies and patches of fur instead of leaves. They bounce up and down and they make sounds like pigs grunting. They bounce and jerk violently until their roots are completely out of the cracks. Free, they buck around the kitchen like small wild horses, their grey bark glistening with a layer of sweat, trampling and stomping on me with their muddy wads of root. And you know what? I let them. There’s so much life in these two, and look at me, lying on the floor, waiting to be trampled to death.

What is it about bears and poems? I'm going to go write some bears.

I Cannot Go To This Restaurant Anymore But I Cannot Wait To See You Again

I cannot go to this restaurant anymore but I cannot wait to see you again

My feet are wet as I watch the electrical outlets

The song finishes in four minutes and thirty seconds

It takes four minutes and thirty seconds to convert electrical signals into feelings

I open a door and place feet on top of a table

I sit in the chair and stare at the clock as it moves forward then moves forward again

and slowly go blind

I sit in a chair on the top floor of a tall building and feel ridiculous for feeling so tall

The feeling in my stomach is the feeling of children playing hide and go seek

The game where nobody hides and nobody seeks and there are no children and there is no

stomach

I find hair and eyelashes that aren’t mine all over my bed

I think of that time you told me that you couldn’t help tickling the backs of my eyes with

your spaghetti fingers

You can find some of my poems here.

You can find many other poems here.

New Newborn

When you are born, you slip out of the doctor's hands and out the window. Oh, gee, I'm all thumbs today, he says. You land in a pile of leftover bloody latex gloves, splotching strawberry handprints all over your tiny body. You put on a pair for your hands, a pair for your feet. You walk into the nearest saloon and order a shot of whiskey and a beer. I'm sorry, we don't serve minors, the bartender says. You slap his face, leaving a bloody handprint. You jump on the bar and gnaw on his neck with your gummy mouth. You’re the new type of newborn, and your first screams sound like metal scratching different metal.