by KD Hack
Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published
fucking the flowers like they're forever waking from the wettest of dreams, making something like love out of soiled palms & hose water. I will lap it up any day, any way you slice the radishes works for me, don’t worry about precision, I made the decision forever ago to forgo every nicety in favor of more fragrant flavor, fiery greens mounded in mason jars donned in duct tape boasting script not quite legible to those not yet fluent in our language, which lives in the spaces between fingers in the soil & pencils on the page, later used to light our fire because nothing is too precious here, except for each seed we sow & each bite we take, which is to say everything is precious. I will take every cob to their golden bone before flinging them back into the field, which is, of course, where they belong.
KD Hack (they/he) is a Queer/Trans poet, death worker & dirt fag. Their relations with the Queer community, grief, ruralness & our more than human connections make up the map of his life. His artistic practices were nourished across the Northwoods of Wisconsin, & reside in the spaces between fingers in the soil & pencils on the page. When they aren’t writing or covered in soil, they bake for their beloveds & teach two step/line dancing to their community. His work can be found in Peach Fuzz, Fruitslice, Querencia Press, Transfix Mag, & South Broadway Press, among others.
EDITOR’S SONG PICK:
Lick The Flame - effe
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