Who’d want a burnt chest? Soaked in vodka, an old fire barely keeping itself alive. His shot-out liver might do him in. At first, it rubs him raw, but it’s an always-early clock come December. […]
Category: poetry
Poem in the Shape of a Flosser
*** Matthew Feinstein is a twenty-two-year-old neurodivergent writer from Tracy California. He will attend the MFA program in Creative Writing, Poetry at California State University, Long Beach in Fall 2020. His poetry and fiction have […]
Self-Portrait as Wine Mom
My therapist tells me I need to be more direct, so fuck you. Sorry, I don’t have it in me to try and ameliorate your deciduous desire. I got into gardening recently, if you haven’t […]
Ode to Robert Morse’s Cigar Butt Encased in Plastic or How to Succeed in Writing an Ode Poem Without Really Trying
Here’s to you Brown frayed blob In the center of A foggy, yellow tinted Cylindrical puck That could easily be mistaken for Fossilized excrement. You souvenir from My mother’s ushering days At a Baltimore theater […]
open letter to the people finding it hard to breathe
stop. empty your heart of the leeching fear / anxiety it’s siphoning the light from your sun there is chaos swirling around / unplug yourself from the news else you find yourself puckered in swelling […]
Caped Cage
Cage ain’t no cape, man, ain’t no frequent flyer unless he’s the Riddler with Con Air hair, man, weaving a wicker basket. There ain’t no cape, man, but Cage with a bone to pick, demons […]
an open letter to the gay, racist, Christian republican I once called friend
when you hold hands with those who would hang you on a tree adjacent my own Black ass, we see all you’ll sell out to salve your skin. how you embrace purity tests, “both sides” […]
Goleta, CA
I have great nose hair, a dense jungle My nose hair fascinated my ex- She once made braids A weave in each nostril “Pig tails” she exclaimed, “they’re so delightful!” Grossness is next to godliness […]
This Old House
This house doesn’t have roaches like our old house; But it’s a lot to deal with when he’s screaming At me (today) in a sealed up, hot garage that smells Like stale beer and left-over […]
Rejection Letters 