Zines: open secret

7 p/half size/B&W

$0.75

We Boys

in the empty playhouse behind the botanical garden
we play house, making
faggot pie& singing out strange luscious
nursery rhymes & cutting up
licorice sticks. we are the boys
whose flesh murders men
in their hearts. the songs of cracking ice ring
when they meets the ocean’s curling whip
just over the hillside where the river sockets
into the sea, but we
in our little wet house
can’t hear a thing.

&underneath the skipper sky&
the slippery dunes swathed in snowmelt
i put my warm hand on yours, we’re two small-bodied spirits
clothed in green feathers with kohl-lined eyes
the sharp tidal rivers flow under the sand
while our fingers seek shells and coral from the dense,
wet grains.

we are the boys that packed mud into tin plates
in the drenching winter rain

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