Kirk P. Hansen i am fissured time swarmed with wrinkles and last year’s sweater vests my body hidden under cold michigan topsoil god’s heart chopped and bled unto the dirty dishes my eye rests in your mouth like a marble remove my lips they are strange slugs for your garden pry my ribs from this… More

the whispering of names

Kirk P. Hansen i am a drunken tyrant of language a fly chewing on a razorblade i am the shadow of the leopard dancing in tall grass your hair like spilled years awakens me i am your lancelot of sleep bent riddles i wear a necklace of dying spiders my toes are made of roman… More