Stringing Them Along

“If you don’t have a backup, you’re
pretty much fucked…” It doesn’t
need to be obvious—rattling ribs

with ribbons: blue for you, red
frame without something to care for.
Open to all the tender pain one

can tolerate, or not. Who’s leaving
while there’s still time? Hexed skulls
of cardinals, wide paint lines across

the room. Eyes, hands loose on each
other. To our bodies, everything
is salient, It makes us want to live

a life without gray space…Search
for the perfect ratio of agave to cedar,
then hand her a rosemary bouquet:

it’s complexity you need,so give
the destroyed phantoms to the phoenix,
give your danger to the graves.


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