by Jennifer Wilson elephants never feel like this lost and looking for the bones of their mothers, extant flesh hooding their eyes with tears while their body rots beneath them O give me sleep, lumbering and heavy with a grey vastness to eclipse the universe give me bones cold enough to feel the skin I have left, to keep it Read More
Tag: jennifer wilson
Congress of the Insomniacs
by Jennifer Wilson promethazine is bitter and makes dust on all things clouds on the hands and white around the fingers lines left white on the table tops and tastes of bitterness on the lips as they plume with wisps and spores like feathers plucked for a feast of public discourse and bald all the people gather in their nakedness Read More