2 POEMS
Beach Sloth

WARM

 
Warm Hug
Exploded Alone
Virginal Impulse
Some Fucking Snow
Cocaine Kings
Possible Salvation
Where There Was Not
Freaked Out
Broken Door
With Own
Withheld

Cracked Cow

A coffee table book of glossy photographs of colorful shower curtains
I wonder when I am going to return to Poland
‘The Little Death’ is the first phrase that comes to mind whenever I hear the word orgasm
Commas give me the space I need, I need space
By now I thought I would have accomplished more with my life
Good thing I’m not finished
Not yet, anyway