depression

poetry by Lee Dunn

Foreigners

If you would, talk some sense into me. Or, just talk some sense. I am in short supply, you see. I have broad and muscled shoulders from clenching the etched-in tension. A hard head with a coconut brain to unveil the dumb mornings. Those that move in this captivity are bound to me, but we […]

More
poetry by Lee Dunn

Quakers

I know why you couldn’t shave anymoreI used to think that you couldbut needed to be touchedI think, now, that something told you“What’s the use?”and you agreedand your hands and knees agreedand next morningyour shrunken headcould think only of hard rivers of nerves.

More
Uncategorized by Lee Dunn

That’s the spirit

There’s no one to adore it. Too hard-shelled and prickly, I guess. Transgressions bought and paid for. Still, there are soft surfaces of want. In the shower, (hotter, hotter), there’s that brain stem shiver. White-eyed, photogenic as an actor’s orgasm.

More