Gay poet
after Gwendolyn Brooks’ “To the Young Who Want to Die” Laid a head down in the din of grasses gnashing with buzz bugs
By Candystore5 years ago in Poets
Christy’s house makes pictures with light through different objects I saw one this morning on the floor by the stairs, a canvas of strained sun
A young tree split by the force of a storm What is felt? Something pushed to crack or sacrifice snaps through like that
Sometimes you can’t find any Sometimes you’ve seen better Sometimes you get there only to find it’s all gone or worse, died
I saw Koyaanisqatsi in high school and it fucking fucked me up Now if I look at clouds long enough it feels like I can’t breathe
for K8 Hardy Censors are interior when we are writing in the face of that judgment and culture of white males —Adrienne Rich
