He tells you he would kill you and you think of the early boys you kissed at recess on playgrounds and ball courts. Imagine them now, rough bodies grown lean; studied at the choke, pin, and meat of girls. Hands, stubborn and impossibly strong; mouths sharp as scorpions. At least one, probably, a bona fide rapist and the others, masters in the sport of taming women too wild for caging. You taste them in the bars after work, air thick with testosterone, whistle, guffaw. The bel

No Words I don’t understand it I don’t want to understand it I have to understand it but I don’t have to stand it I can’t stand it I can’t help imagining the feeling of being torn apart by lead I can’t look at these images without the feeling of ripping apart being in that person’s being fading out with a hateful face the last glimpse what happens next ? ? can only hope peace will come to the slaughtered that some semblance of justice and strength can re

Mz Jayne, Mz Cortez Mz Anthrope with eye on hope Standing stock still in the whirlwind Let the gutters run dry and high around you, O Unstoppable Unsinkable Living the unthinkable thought So in it You direct it You spit it Before spitting was spitting you spat You speak the world on fire Where you’re at is where it’s at Once I asked Mel if he’d consider doing a book cover He said, “I only do that for Jayne” Obviously The only cover for a Jayne Cortez poem Would be by Jayne Co