porch sessions #1

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i am the tired of bones
tossed at sea &
washed up in a nether land
maybe you’ll find me &
maybe you won’t
that i thought you were looking
was probably my 1st mistake
i should find what makes for bones
or become an adornment
or a pulverized mix of things
meant for something special and mysterious…
like love
oh love
oblivious to coercion
does it wait on untended beaches
for washed-up things?
destiny is the trust of waves
and do you know what that looks like?


heyyMichele McDannold is the author of Stealing the Midnight from a Handful of Days, a book of poetry available from PUNK HOSTAGE PRESS. She was the Editor-in-Chief at Red Fez Publications for five years and is currently the editor/publisher at Citizens for Decent Literature. She has an extensive collection of flannel and rubber chicken heads. For more, please visit michelemcdannold.com.

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think you better slow your mustang down

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sometimes you just want a classic.

something that comes together so
easily
over italian
wine
& cheesy lovesongs

he’s worried about barbarianism
when all it was to do about–
he was hungry

in stillness, i
amplify
the quiet solitude of forgiveness
mother love let’s us get away
with so much

like a caveman
he orgasms all over himself
it’s all put together so well
work in time
to do nothing but stare at
the wall
do city buildings taste as different
as city people?
maybe it’s the green.

no time to myself to fuck my own ass
while i jack off. these are the
funny notes i adore

several days of masterbating
that glass like a tippy egg
you will never know the truth of it