I feel on fire, my brain incapable of quieting in the dark, my body exhausted.
I feel trapped, hurtling towards a middle, but at the same time in forced repose; nothing
more to prepare.
I feel relieved, dismayed I have wasted much vitamin B on stress.
I feel empty, critique is over, but I am inert, a body at rest. I should be busying.
I feel procrastinatory, reading with fervor in order to forget my upcoming-now-past
critique.
The summer solstice isn’t the only thing;
Intense, moody shoegaze
Not just a record of
a thrashier sound.
Two-step shit
Develops
for the love of litter
Leaves her children to
Evaluate students who cannot take
an assemblage of Random sheets
Looking at them in every situation,
Traditionally the benefits
richly evocative of
protected forest floors
Under the flames, someone is trimming a hedge
the same as in previous years
An empty bull
Of leaves has
Impacted the system
To look at each student as a whole
In a time full of uncertainty
(From the October Slug Magazine and a USU campus newspaper)
kamikaze chapstick, phone and knife.
Oh fuck is my period coming today?
Wore a pad for three days of non-bleeding
Hiked two miles out with cramps, but hey, didn’t cry.
None of my bras fit my body like a glove
Grab my boobs and squash them,
or make them look grapefruit big.
If I wear a skirt is he going to think I like him in that way?
I was feeling Spring today, and my feather skirt goes
nicely with rain.
