September 2017

Sankt Georg, what was it, questionable, doubtful, shady, twilit,
a something area, something  Jan said, and he was born in Hamburg,
and went to school here, so he would know.

A little isthmus between the Alster with its freshwater sailors
and the railway station,...

            Yes, your face like asphalt dust on my tongue
whenever it rains. I’ll say it’s the last time I call,
            tomorrow. In your arms it won’t be the same,
each step farther from...

How long can you speak.
Without inhaling. How long.
Can you inhale without.
Bursting apart. History is wagging.
Its ass at us. Twirling in its silver.
Cape. I want to kiss.
Your scalp. I want you to kiss.
My friends. Can you see the wet.
Azalea quivering.
On its...