No Apology for Happiness

I know this guy. It was thirteen years ago when he first set some words and gunpowder next to metal casings with the intent of being a truth-teller, a dangerous artist, a maker of things that do harm where harm needs doing. If you had asked him back then, he wouldn’t have been able to . . . → Read More: No Apology for Happiness

A poem from the book Overpass

Good Housekeeping

Somewhere a shelf of labeled containers containing formalin and bits of flesh. Somewhere a book waterlogs in a tub while three-personed cells batter a body. Aggressive. Invasive. Metastatic. Somewhere a container labeled right breast

flanked by four others. Lymph node, sentinel one. Sentinel two. Axillary tail. Breast skin. Somewhere Overpass Girl bruises, blows, . . . → Read More: A poem from the book Overpass