library

halloween by lindsay turner + reading by brucegreggpoetryreadings

The land of the dead, they say, is closer.
But what if my lot lies with the living?

The first gun we knew came in a toolbox for the apocalypse: hammer, barrel, crushed can, pack of Newports, a ballpoint pen someone took apart.

But it wasn't until he was a man, and he felt the power of another man—fucked and been fucked at the peak of his vitality—that he really understood himself—his values—his politics, really. True equality: two forces of nature engaged in ruthless mutual desecration culminating in the production of nothing but flat colorless pleasure.

I write my aubade. To the moon
on your back.