I got an A minus in feminism

I have a new poem up in BAD DOG REVIEW’s inaugural issue about all the times I’ve called the police. Since I last updated, I have also published a poem in Bad Nudes about talking to myself on the street, in Big Smoke Poetry about hating everyone around you, and in Bywords about afterbirth. In 2019 I hope to have more poems published in B-list outlets (see what I did there?) and beyond, as in—actually get out into the world and perform, and engage, and make you people happy.

Also if you’re in Peterborough, FFS check out all the stuff STPS is doing for Poetry Month. Justin Million and Elisha Rubacha have built an empire for good, and it can only mean good things for Ontario’s bellweather community.

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NPM #20 (Din’s Fire)

pacing the over-world
waiting for stores to open
taking green potions
the hours’ bones show

whole skeletons and tendons
ape from dirt, swipe for flesh
but I am aflame; invulnerable

but not when my green is gone
my legs won’t work
I throw my head forward
my frame follows

heh— heh— heh—
grunt & roll towards dawn

& just as light loads o’er the horizon
the biggest skeleton appears
& disappears immediately
—a false epiphany?

biological alarms reset the village
(dreams blown like dust off a cart)

I enter and a few head turn
pretend their eyes elsewhere—
who was that unblinking drifter
loitering in my memory
like smoke in a room?

You see there is this extra large wallet
I am ready to win.