47.2 - Spring 2018

Page 209

is it perverse, Madras, when I paint your breasts?

iii. a char-stained aperture not by eye fragment shelter animal shelter lust * hobgoblin come near, fetter swell the ululations rat rattle no chain

iv. all these redwood mouths charred and slack-jawed murmur toward an almond grove where is xe now? the sweet mouth-feel after the bitters SPRING 2018


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