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Cory only hires stoners so he has something on them if they try blackmail.

Finger tracing the terrain, you hold me through autumn’s loss of color.

I see now that motherhood is not required to speak a mother tongue.

I lean I stumble toward you hoping you’ve not turned away yet.

I’m tired of the song the rain sings in June, the chorus of hope.

Maybe it’s a Thursday, & I’m coming home to make you dinner.

“Tell me about the things you can’t tell me about when I’m dressed.”

To me, the very point of cooking is to wildly praise what’s wild.

You can’t ask her not to fall in love when she does it on a daily basis.

“We don’t feel like a couple. Haven’t felt like a couple for a very long while.”

What felt like sanctity now felt like nothingness, like death.

Every day I was forced to return to the one place I did not want to be.

How did the light take forty years to work its way across that room.

Before giant pandas earn heir name, they cub pinkly and mewling.

I reviewed the rules for myself, among them: stay in the moment.

A heart takes precautions, withholds warmth, but it’s mistaken.

You sounded so confident about the Old Masters and I loved you for that.

Here I am, king of the gods, making a fool of myself just to get under your gown.

James Salter

James Salter

I was once a rider of mastodons, a waitress showing skin.

She does not know within a decade she will unload a slug into her mouth.

The men here don’t know where to place me, call me exotic grail.

When I’m reading him I feel myself come closer to you than usual.

All day we lay on the bed, my hand stroking the deep gold of your thighs.

Her sly smile was a vicious remnant of her life before Real Life began.

Pale dust clung to their skin like the lime he had thrown on the dead.

“Refuge,” Nina said, tilting her head back; it was a word she learned.

my baba sits in a midwest garage with the hood propped open.

The legendary author Robert Stone, in the words of his friends.