She Finds a Note in Her Lunch (poem)
I don’t want you to think / I’m stalking you…
I don’t want you to think / I’m stalking you…
Antifa is / dew that rises / from a dark corner / of the walled garden…
The phenomenon of my noumenal skeleton brokenly reconstructed…
He had my eyes and his papa’s nose / And a killer’s hands and a burglar’s toes…
It was a full moon, like tonight, except it was during Prohibition…
You asked the forbidden question. The visiting professor turned pale…
No grass will grow on my grave…
Four watchers in the room, / wind rattling panes…
a bright morning / in early fall…
Everything startles them / in the cemetery over there…