Firestone Friday: Poem XVIII

You speak

different languages


the morning


the night,

and I love

the way

my name


in every



of them.

(Happy Valentine’s Day.)


With a thousand poems,

I try to tell you

how I feel about you,

but, with every failed lyric,

it’s clearer that

my passion

can only be expressed

with movement.

Firestone Friday: Poem XVI

We’re all full of holes,

trying, desperately, to become wholes —

swelling, inserting, filling ourselves

with things as dispensable as they are harmful,

and we look over our

needles, nicotine, nudity, and nights

only long enough to wage

merciless judgments against

our neighbor’s holes-filler.

Strong Language by Logan Gorg


We are a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for us to earn fees by linking to and affiliated sites. As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases.