there will be blood

sometimes I imagine what a war
between female sanitary products
might be like—

tampons whip their flagella
furiously in the wind

and
the maxi-pad flaps
its wings low to the ground,
a manta-ray shadow skimming
the surface of the earth

the napkin lows like a bull
as a tampon spears it
with a plastic applicator
it sinks to its padded knees
from it pours the red badge
of courage
and so bravely in the face of death
does the pad moo,

that even the tampon raises
one cottony-fingered salute

taps plays in the distance

--damn, a girl says to herself
later, her pants around her ankles
--where the fuck did all this blood come
from

Growth

birthright and swan-song
of the self-replicators:
shimmery pulses of naked biology

the heart is a goose-stepping fascist
and this Reich will survive for a thousand years

poem for the moon

two small white strings hang from your ears

the tinny voice of gordon gano
—they'll hurt me bad—they do it all the time—
yeah yeah—
trickles out behind your quiet white neck and
you don't notice my gaze, which is to say
my nose—yeah yeah—I'm inhaling you
you've got me drunk in class, again, lady

one small white string hanging between your legs

shitty

is it worth it

to wake up this way every morning?

wanting to let go,

unable to let go.

health and wealth and whatever else

i love young people
their unblemished moonlike
soft smiling faces
and energy, ambition, and their
                      careless
                           cruelty
                                 and how they destroy themselves
                                 just to feel anything at all
but you said you were 29
and you were furrowed, lined
and kind
you could softly laugh and
know antagonism and smiling large
and laughing were the same
and to the same end

when we said goodbye it did not
sting like mother leaving child
                     though it meant forever
we were old and knew some things of life
its disappointments
that we couldn't have it all
and every time we were split
smaller and smaller
that was how we would
come together
in soil
richer

every single one of us
will be able to say
where we were the day
the internet died