All the world's a prison, poem published by Jane Joritz-Nakagawa

and glowing a deeper and deeper red near
dawn panting with exhaustion
short stabbing sword)
... could feel my eyebrows singing,

as hot ash rained down for several..
oozing every land in marching ...
Deep philosophical discussions are better on
adopted the same pose

red-tiled arches of our school’s ...
Every day I do that. But
I certainly wasn’t prepared to surrender any more
Unless

the house and talk is private
with no hope of comfort
heavy leathery body one
I had buried in my own neck

currents curled sinuously around and around:
I was tired, bloodied and guessed
...cannot be seen in this realm as easily;
I thought her death certainly would have made things easier.

… may have sacrificed my
huge steel pipes lashed together with metal
little I could do
to break the stalemate I had to draw ... closer

thus I stared at each other across the empty
(you are not dead you have merely created a serious rift)
“No offense but . . . is both smelly and smoldering”
. . . blaze now roaring through the forest

from a gash on his forehead and said, “Well, I think that went rather well”
as he inadvertently poisoned . . . last night.
no matter how finely dressed. Unless

before total blackout. I needed

out a high clear note. Startled I looked up
with the roof mostly finished
strength I jumped from the truck
... final host and, obviously, some great act.

spiky thing in front of me shifted
liquid burst into flame but all it ....was
I put a leash on you ... keep you by my side…
a furrow from collarbone to navel in

with much blood I pried the thing away
There was no polite way to answer the truth of the question so I
said nothing
for which so many have died…expletive, your abysmal

that will not only sterilize ... but leave a signature
squeezed out the tree house door to spread his wings
there without stepping on . . .
in lifestyles of the magically pointless

as though I was touching something
has been in this realm long who knows what is being drawn to
air blew round my face and off
I shall put together a little something explosive but

‘No more icky things’ I prayed