Poetry

Play Manual for GlueMan

The more GlueMan takes in,
the closer he gets to
exploding into a cloud of
fiberglass dust, an airborne
itch.

Cobra Commander

When they made a toy of you
Did you dream of children
Thinking you’re the good guy

cackler bridge.

a fist / crown of amethyst cut / across the plains / I wished him

the white / women he dreamed / of – shaved

my head / to empty the soil / to empty myself /