New from Kitchen Press: Otherhow, by Morgan Lucas Schuldt
Am mortal whee,
botched from the very start,
Since then am balsa-breathing through.
Am passage-process, pulse-pace, proof-pink.
My ing-ing—iffy at best.
Am all while-ing given to thrall and god-hurry.
Am x-ratedness & meat-joy & what's-his-name
when lust's skully pull un-seems all others in the kite field.
The only leggy accident for miles
looking good in wool is you. Am romantic
deathscepade. Soothe & should.
Wanna and coulda fort-da-ing daily.
Am why-way, tell-why eyes;
shy-say, quell-why sighs.
Sinew and brink, am doing the breathing different.
Stats so-so and worsting.