Author name: Rattle

Poems

Anniversary

I was crying in front of the Quick Trip

because I was out of cigarettes

and left my wallet at home and

it was my anniversary and so it was

Poems

Saving For Sleep

Night’s pitch-rolled on a deck of blight,
and hands, they call, all hands aboard.
Here’s the rigging of a dream—

Audio, Poems, Poets Respond

We Don’t Call It a Riot

That summer was an oven on self-clean—
beyond hot. The cops raided clubs for weeks.
Huddled, frightened men and men and women

and women and human and human held
at the end of a nightstick in contempt,
being held in the arms of a lover

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