Daintily and Ray and kid write poetry.

And damnit I kicked that filthy habit years ago.

But I started again. Help me. Someone help me please? Help? Me?



What’s It Like To Kiss Dostoevsky?

I believe somehow I can know
his smell—vinegary but not overpowering
the tang of a pickling brine rather than the apple cider kind
the smell of unwashed clothes, a gentle dusty smell
wiry prickles, awkwardness, then soft, moisture.
I will have my eyes closed.