Imagine that I am jumping into the cold spring water in Kelly Park, Florida and you are calling my name and then calling your mother and then calling me a clever swamp puppy as scales cover my body and you finally see how long my teeth are as they clench around a multi-tool that has wiggled out of my quivering gullet.
I saw the Neo-Futurists one time recreationally and now they are emailing me for an employee bio.
40 homes and 40 jobs before you’re 30 years old with a chronic case of “employee of the month,” as a bullshit consolation prize,
I’d like to sit still here,
with you
for a moment.
Sometimes the lights are on, sometimes they’re off and the sensors aren’t too sensitive you just don’t understand the signal coming through.
Kira is: Writing, exposing emulsions, emitting expulsions, and sometimes lightly convulsing in a theater, photography studio, or prairie preserve near you.