Author: nineteenseventynine

Morning wood by michael hessel-mial Like entering a room where a woman waits, reclining, with coy eyes, I stumble into awakeness onto my erection, silent

The Opening Line by michael hessel-mial Something punctures the center of the surface, but of what isn’t the surface for long, like a ball’s gravity

sky-green clouds, blue earth by michael hessel-mial Sun curving lightly, twist over the glittering blisterdome, six mile-high coffeeshops direct lightning to where it cannot be

Do it. by michael hessel-mial Do it. Right. Man, that’s Right. Man, you do it. Forever. This time. But a moment. Bookends, bookended. Right. For

girl in one glance by michael hessel-mial I spent all day following a bruise on a pale bare thigh, all day, every day, over hills