Under Cover
Extolling the virtues of theft
Meaning makes less in a week than
Your masterpiece is for smashing
Porcelain pink panther
Punching a canvas til it’s money
We listened to ArtPop and dream what could’ve been
Genderqueer porn suggesting sexy BBQ
A banana is a bandana is sometimes not
An orange pool toy glowing
In our brain barely there tiger print bandeau
I wanted something lasting I wake up
With a black and blue eye
No gods no masters cannot see where we stand
No need for a period, finish them
Mythology
For Joseph Bradshaw
The gap between mainstream and independent brands
Is not as striking as diastema, a co-opted uniqueness
Thigh highs, black CBD pen, ponyhair wedges
How much we spend logged on the rings of the giving tree
I will be a false glue, made for you
Rick Owens, Ramones, ASAP
‘Dizzy as the green of currency’
Jennifer Lopez in the cell, ‘his mind is her prison’
When I was young we wanted ginger
Curls, freckles, reading glasses a refusal of tall
Dark and handsome though still scared of the thought
A doll could come alive we sleep in the basement beside
A curio cabinet filled with porcelain figurines
Whose paleness compressed to blush is so uncanny
What makes one an American Girl
Is a song to sing on a road to nowhere
Petty, the security of this vintage, how it will hold you so tight
It’s cutting off the blood flow
Can we blush and be comfortable at the same time?
A theory for nascent dread and impulsivity online
Descending into the psyche
“buff serial killer rocking braces”
haute couture where our gore is modeled in four dimensions
‘The hoax of memory,’ the hoax of daddy
Au Currant
‘I created myself to death’
In that I barely waited for an opening
Waiting to speak though I couldn’t really say that
you said anything at all
We ignore the history of representation
verities, forget-me-nots
Some great abstract secret still
defiantly dependent on the crush
I serve the base you know
Nervous precursor to a glow paint party
Where the anticipation is killing me
We wriggle into the fire
Wallflowers to this Apollonian morning
Exhausted, tan and downtrodden
Our petals unfolding a reconstructed sweater
A torso of two
impossible animal prints and greensleeves
reimagining the Frost line around freedom
How Venus always works without a net
Using color as a modifier the meek will inherit
That shit has made
all the difference in the world
