Surfing, Hipsters, The New Yorker, Pissing, The Masturbatorium

A few poems

More prose stuff coming soon. In the meantime, some poems:

Surfing

When the moon stopped rising and the ocean
stopped waving and the astrology industry
had to readjust all its calculations

They closed the beaches and the seas were
as still as a glass of warm water on a table

And everyone got sick. It was like
Eros
just got up and walked out the door.

And then the…