This is a bourbon vanilla candle but I can only smell flame
Quit your job and tell me what day it is
Why don’t we get mail on Columbus Day
Why do we still have it at all
I am displeased with this utterance
I can’t think of anything else Bakhtin would say
Let us for once mention a thing without unpacking it
My favorite thing to pack is heat
Heat is a metaphor for penis
A queer poem is a queer poem is a way of knowing
My boyfriend is smarter than me
He’s writing a dissertation on fascination
He says queer doesn’t mean anything anymore
Too many people co-opting for heterosexual positions
Sometimes I think about my mailman’s positions
This is the most fanciful fancy there is
Politically he’s probably further right than anyone I talk to
Who doesn’t avoid arguments when they’re bad at them
Who doesn’t pretend he’s digging when he knows already what’s down there