[105]
02/06/2015 06:16 a.m.
scraps for saving:


when he begs to share her bed she lets him know he’s just
too little.

once he felt he was unintentionally interesting and now he strives to be impressive even to himself.

the way he bore her down was slow and quiet, and mean like the curling edges of a terrier’s mouth.

With each pumping beat all slump in her chest she sinks deeper and breathes harder and thinks faster.




I am a coyote.
I laugh like little children and feel
full of death and fire and
break apart into lots of
beings and come together into

few
when
you
meet
me
at
the
crest

(howling howling howling howling)
the gregarious solitudes of this
desert flush dust into my mouth and
arch into their voices staccato
mourning lost childhoods, lost
children and begging for
relief.