
House Beer #7 by Fortunato Salazar
Her goal was: get dressed, go back to the venue. Her feet already were dressed. Either that or her feet were bait. One foot felt like it was keeping her attached. continue reading
Her goal was: get dressed, go back to the venue. Her feet already were dressed. Either that or her feet were bait. One foot felt like it was keeping her attached. continue reading
Bird shit came in through the window today, which was something new to me. continue reading
[ed: According to Mr. Saylor, this is one of a series of poems made of Google suggested searches]
Why do I use so much data
Why do I zone out a lot
continue reading…
Karen Putter felt so ill at ease she began tugging at the skin on the back of her hand till it gave way. Tomorrow was her makeup senior portrait she’d avoided the first time and she’d been prepping outfits in her room (blue sweater/black skirt, red blouse/blue jeans, etc.), before turning off the lights and collapsing on her bed. A heap of clothes littered the room. She stood and with scarcely an effort tore off a large swath of skin that had come undone on a hidden seam clear up to her shoulder—and her ears buzzed. continue reading…
i dream about going mad
i dream about going mad:
tornado arms, flooding halls
with screech and drool,
“I was on the North Fork, you know? Long Island?” she said in that way people say things when they don’t mean to imply they are important but you better recognize the fact that they are pretty fucking important.
disposable camera (I)
skylight comes on springgray the first Stockholm morning then stays its shade ninedays a weekplusoneplusone, but for now and then breaks the hours afternooning when sunbright screams through the welkin, weak by shadows’ hum and metal dust dyed atmosphere singing itself above us
“Yes I understand, I’ll say it again…We want to sell you a system, sir.”
“A system? What kind of system, a system for what, tell me what it is and what does it do? My time is too valuable for this.” continue reading…