Candle light is not too poetic to mention in a poem if we say the light slicks across our faces like mud butt.<\/p>\n

The candle light slicked across our faces like mud butt. If I\u2019d have known that was the last time I\u2019d see his face lit at night I might have paid attention to the tall shadows. Cast, like a line. Catching connection.<\/p>\n

Track 8: \u201cHeartbeats\u201d by the Knife (or honestly the Jose Gonzales cover but I\u2019m a sucker for Karen Dreijer). Am I the only one who thinks this song is about atheism? Focus on the part where she sings that calling on hands from above for stability, to \u201clean on,\u201d isn\u2019t good enough for her. Hands of above? No, I need the hands right in front. Maybe the hands under. Hands around. But not hands of above. Prayer never helped nobody do nothing.<\/p>\n

He \u201cdid\u201d sales. Spent our dates polishing the poop chute of his attributes. I\u2019m a people person<\/em> he said over soggy vinegar and mayo fish n chips. Sales is about being a good listener<\/em>, he\u2019d coo into my ear after he picked my napkin off the floor and glossed it across my lap. I think\u2026 I think my worst quality is that I\u2019m too real, I speak my mind too much<\/em>, he said unprompted. He was like 6\u20195. His arms<\/p>\n

VICTIMS OF GANG VIOLENCE IN EL SALVADOR HAVE THEIR CHILDREN TORN AWAY AT THE BORDER<\/p>\n

made me want to throw myself
down
a flight of stairs. Touch crazed, I\u2019d burrow
into bed, my mind alive with whatever the word
is when you can\u2019t olive oil NO\u2014when you and sleep
are like oil and water. I\u2019d burrow
into bed, calmed by even the idea of him around
me, calmed so completely that all my sighs
came out in shudders and pies. But the days
and weeks wore without momentum. We drive to the light-
house Mimosa flute bodies clink cheers salud Then he drove
me home. Drop off the same time every night Arms
stay an idea. His arms abstract. So I<\/p>\n

go
Lighting the horizon line like always. A season
used to be an authority figure
but now I can get tomatoes anytime of the year<\/p>\n

Track 11: \u201cReady for the Floor\u201d by Hot Chip. I\u2019ll have to ask Dr. John if this counts as a Freudian slip, but I always thought the song was like, \u201copen up, we\u2019re tall!\u201d And I was like f yeah! Don\u2019t be a wallflower, come smooch me or whatever cos we\u2019re both tall! But apparently it\u2019s \u201copen up with talk\u201d which okay fine dialogue or whatever. Also I love myself a micro changing chorus. \u201cReady for the Floor\u201d as in of course dance floor or whatever, in the context of the chorus ready to talk ready for dialogue, but when it switches to \u201cready for a fall\u201d I kind of turn into a Pisces. I\u2026 fall\u2026 to Pisces? Sorry, Patsy Cline\u2019s zombie is like rolling around in its grave rn I\u2019ll see myself out<\/p>\n\n\n

<\/div>\n\n\n\n
\n\n\n\n
$\"\"$ <\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n
Tommy “Teebs” Pico<\/strong> is an indigenous American poet and screenwriter who hates going to gay bars alone because he gets annoyed when people talk to him and offended when they don’t. He is single and actively mingling. These two statements have nothing to do with each other. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
from\u00a0Feed Dear reader, Candle light is not too poetic to mention in a poem if we say the light slicks across our faces like mud butt. The candle light slicked across our faces like mud butt. If I\u2019d have known that was the last time I\u2019d see his face lit […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":101,"featured_media":1702,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_mi_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0},"categories":[157,131],"tags":[141,25,140],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bkreview.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1310"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bkreview.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bkreview.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bkreview.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/101"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bkreview.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1310"}],"version-history":[{"count":11,"href":"https:\/\/www.bkreview.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1310\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1964,"href":"https:\/\/www.bkreview.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1310\/revisions\/1964"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bkreview.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1702"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bkreview.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1310"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bkreview.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1310"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bkreview.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1310"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}