Tag Archives: Andrew Plevak

my love expressed in units

just bed feathers apart, I mimic the concrete— perfectly still, molecules bound. I don’t remember the coffee timer blaring at 10 am. I don’t remember packing my suitcase. I don’t remember being with someone else. I don’t want to. I … Continue reading

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White

Goodness cued in snowflakes flying—spin angel, spin spun so mid-air lying. My mouth opens to let you out—in—around my plexus—six fingers and I cover my eyes until I vision white spikes burrowing fire— a gown to winter, yet now April … Continue reading

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a welcome

I sit, licking the rim of my martini and ponder the mucid metaphysicality of invisible salt. there is music closing all-bearing arms sculled from syncopation. it is beaten into ears along with a welcome erection in the cortex. will you … Continue reading

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I don’t want you to be my Emma

I walk in circles to open the door of brain and body—the size too small to fit a horsefly. the grief of acapella shakes hands with a buck’s horns, all powerful and violent. light will fall one day soon. the … Continue reading

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expelling loss

I am waning inside rough water tied in thick swaths of raging dahlia with two hands I hold you the weight of our past pulls my pockets slipping my pants to the ground I am naked abreast with fuzzy mountains … Continue reading

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bubble in a vile of lilacs

tied and black wet lilac now knowing the back of your head. a kiss of spring bees and their busy, honeyed bottoms. purple and written. the exit your grace taking my hand like the last girl at the party. purple … Continue reading

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gems on its shell

a turtle with gems on its shell— too fine and delicate to be true. I hold your hand and watch it pass by, slow and sinking into the sand. us— caught up in the couldn’t’s can’t’s of its movement, mesmerized … Continue reading

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drawn

wild flowers reign, sprouting their summer buds by waxen artist. waxen carved precisely through action action and profound concentration. hands like the wrangled sun blistering on white canvas—each stroke read like an island SOS. unhinged artist. wildish nature—its jaws to … Continue reading

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a bloom woke me

in snow, I found a bouquet of lavender, ground it to a powder and put it on my tongue. you spoke through a bloom’s mouth—the snow landing on your minnowed stamen. the trees were bright, birthed, and lucid. shone their … Continue reading

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partner in crime

I wait cross-legged on a barrel of tacks. the smoke of cells dying and regenerating mists my skin. I imagine spangles of blood spewing into the air and haunting sounds of bone snapping under a blanket. there is no pain … Continue reading

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