Tag Archives: Len Kuntz

Each morning I take off my skin Pluck out my eyes Douse myself With lighter fluid And set fire to my brain It’s easier this way The day gets started But I’m already gone I watch the bus Pull up … Continue reading →

He already had a body Two in fact But he wanted a different one Needed a younger one Of his own A confused doe One of those you’re Supposed to kiss Lips closed In affection Not open-mouthed Like a rabid … Continue reading →

We ate the animals we owned And the ones we didn’t sat at The dinner table afterward Playing gin rummy As if it was something Important and special Like taking communion or voting They spoke German Always German Always about … Continue reading →

So much disintegrates when we sleep Dreams are just a disguise A hoax to keep us distracted You were saying his name again The moon and I heard it From where we hung suspended above this bed Congratulations. You have … Continue reading →

I am giving away pieces of myself outside A bus terminal when an old woman Asks, Do you know how dangerous that is? The birds peck out my eyes for free A cabbie collects my baguette legs like A Parisian … Continue reading →

You’ve been gone a while So likely we’ll have sex tonight Lots of extra body fluids spilled Some good old-fashioned bed-shaking It’s always the same after you’ve been away— Your need for a naked toy But all I really want … Continue reading →

There is a split in your lip that Wasn’t there before And you are trying to hide Inside a bathrobe with the collar turned up When breakfast wasn’t made I knew It’s always the same signs The nervous finger tap-tap-tapping … Continue reading →