New from Kitchen Press: Otherhow, by Morgan Lucas Schuldt

My Merely

Am among.
Am mortal whee,

botched from the very start,
among.

Since then am balsa-breathing through.
Am passage-process, pulse-pace, proof-pink.

My ing-ing—iffy at best.
Am all while-ing given to thrall and god-hurry.

Am x-ratedness & meat-joy & what's-his-name
when lust's skully pull un-seems all others in the kite field.

The only leggy accident for miles
looking good in wool is you. Am romantic

deathscepade. Soothe & should.
Wanna and coulda fort-da-ing daily.

Am why-way, tell-why eyes;
shy-say, quell-why sighs.

Sinew and brink, am doing the breathing different.
Stats so-so and worsting.

That sort.

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