Poet Laundry

    Therapy popped you out again like a rotten vegetable in the garden—   the twelve years I spent as your sponge,   and now, ...

I miss you.   I really do. You were always there ready to make merry, happy as a shitfaced clown on Saturday afternoon. But bac...

Mag 213 I bore your neurotoxic carvings straight-razored into my skin, nerve endings dangling, exposed, until I transfo...