When we attempted fire we were stubbornin carparks making amends with our rings on     our tongues out I could tell you how I got here but I am instead intenton telling you how I am planning to leave      the fire is onlyone way out     when we attempted earth we failedthe landscape held my heel like a moor victim until I heard onlya lecture about how you were the victim how your motherburned…

for A. 

we send them both off bare-chested into the den to plug in their machines and watch the images on screens morph into shapes they assume for the duration of the spell     in Guadalajara the trees bloom and then wilt spent spine curved like a question mark I send you messages while they are occupied that sound like branches snapping or me lapping up your saliva     when he is next to me the…

Since my Electric Literature piece on social media and disconnection—as well as trying to reconnect, in some way—was published, I’ve been scant on social media. I creep on it like a phantom from time to time, wondering if I’m missing anything; I sometimes miss the connections there, the camaraderie I felt and which I tried to describe in my piece to which I’ve linked above. But it simply doesn’t…