UndercrankNOVEMBER – lightMore Like This
has been property under
the title "propriety," sub-headed
"self-promotion" though i taste it like
DECEMBER – this light,
stewing between lungs like parentheses
enclosing goodbyes to skins barely worn, still warm
on October's breath, is
JANUARY – my light
and i sell its anatomy
like unripe strawberries.
FEBRUARY – look me in the eye
of my hurricane sighs and capsize.
i am a catalogue of what lonely people do
with their melting insides.
MARCH – ask if light has
room to breathe, make me
swear to disbelieve that any
wear their strawberry skins the same as me.
APRIL – ask intercostals
if i have extricated ambitions from ambiguity,
if i've determined sanity in this cacophony of symphonies,
of untried, untrue remedies to unfelt blues.
MAY – heart is a warmly over-ripened fruit, heavy like
JUNE – weight enough to sink a