By Boris Salvador Ingles
By Boris Salvador Ingles

By AJ Urquidi

a mouth compiling creases without compromisea ride with fine unarmed cadets to a capsule submerged
he puked into the potted palm until his hat flew off and he holyghostedwhen cutting fingernails cutting days into fingernails
thanksgiving balloons count down to late homecomingif I climbed paper I would get lost in the snow
my mother would be there as rippling as a week-old puddleviolent films touch in an adult manner
got hives in the vision from a stare-through galaxythe black-red white spots of the subway car floor
words best describe confusion which best describes wordsall the butter ran out months ago
a river of nice ideas of soft yummy crispiesa mental alarm when the last rock’s still breaking

originally published in Remedial Art Class V.

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