Beg Approval

By TC Tolbert

The we that looks down on perspective.

Shared connective tissue; synaptic elbowroom

at dinner conversation. Your teeth dissecting a dog’s heart won’t change redirected traffic. Mother seahorse

thin, empty. Glasses strain through your hand.

Praise, protect slice after slice.

– Sheridan Walter

Wild Things

Respite in time honey.

It’s get going wild soon.

You’re to glimmer under

a thousand spotlights.

Those fuckers

will witness how ye

rise from the death

and ye shall have

monster heads


to yer childhood bedroom


No longer will yer mood

wax and wane.

Forever high tide …

Shed those stones from

ye hip pockets,

and skip them on

placid waters towards

the full moon.

Portrait of My Gender as [Inaudible]

I was god when my name you

you spoke to the nothing-

Adam ,

lit his own species.

So many became doctors.

Can it be between us?

My creation. I was made without

an image.

For a god to appear with never

a body, a voice? You wouldn’t

believe me the first day. I am

of air, the only stereo- one

pair will have to do.

 I photograph

my name, there was a field & I

in it.

You can’t hear …

I’m there.

No Fucks Given



quicksand ruination

Lay bare, unedited dysfunction

 fuckup – if you prefer … 

I’m not your fucking gaiety.

There is a heart in this chest!

Beating beautiful pain.

I’m no jester?

I’ve been digging my grave,

the only selfish act.

An act of defiance.


No fucks given.

None not even for god.

I am Friends-

with a shovel.

405 method not allowed

If you can’t forgive

If you you can’t ignore

You can only swirl

and disperse

Like the pappus of

a dandelion seed

In the wind

scurrying to lose it’s mind


Trying to forget the awful sadness

dreaming of men in Bloemfontein

where it gets cold


yet I drink antifreeze

for a few seconds of warmth

Then I die.

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