What no one ever said to me. Acheerariom l’hodnick ox hoodna t’varius t’vay
you didn’t. I’m inside my parents’ TV one more time.
These suburban den windows lock affixed the branches’ wet spirituals to the house.
I live the dewy-eyed desolation aproned dreamsong
of the grocery store sample man.
Consult your program guide. L’doxick h’arits we are free
to watch the advertisements or wait them out with mute on.
I’m one of those people who collects all there is of one thing. Everything
is filled with that one thing. I’m the that
one thing
And when I fell out of love with that one thing
what did I do? What did I say? I crashed into things for the noise.
I became a lot louder. But I’m sorry.
I’m better now. I’m sorry. But I’m better now. Your







Dear Alien Queen feminist icon:
The female body has ways to try to shut that whole thing down
said the older man.
Drop dead zone body after body trauma narrative
you’re so beautiful just the way you are.
Today’s stock screams scream
anti-gravity because we just can’t possibly understand.
Thankfully. Young generation ruled by the old
you’re the unrecognized queen I want to sleep next to. My car’s all crumpled love poems. You’re once hive mind now subjugated babysitter secretary college student so
egg sack beast this all-night diner space hub on Earth just one more time. O vicious dormancy. No one will believe you
assumes gender and our laws promising to uphold it because it’s always been around so why not?
But the body has a way of rising again.
Because this is what we did with ourselves and our bodies on Earth.
Because rape is legitimate no matter what message board says it.
It’s monster breath dry in this occupation. I had drinks today.
What we do is hive. But humans I miss the slime.
Everything’s such a gruesome maw of an airlock.
That feeling when something crumpled spiral wafts flying out of your car
when you’re sad and driving and wincing reading about rape and this land we raped taken forced fluids through historical bodies rapes everything so ugly and monstrous rape culture and old laws old men language the rape
that birthed us
and what was that thing? What beautiful and against aghast?
What old sensations did we raise our young to selfishly fulfill? What was that thing?
What outer space.
What scars raise my skin. What color. What bruises on us all. And
on this most female day.
Ask me why I want
an Alien Queen tattoo.
You’re a woman you’re
a war.







L’hood nik meloccolaria sarris t’aar l’anon.
A prayer:
Nassa oppsu y’owwn throa’nn vone a p’owwn.
Ta Alssium t’hanna ah alehia andleodae andleodae.
May life flow with the intimations of
divine transmissions
Borrae p’regacca t’dossits victus tactus y’owwn ox tussis varium p’or h’ae ess.
Elluhana hallium della
Shaarl benna hassu sarrusu t’dusix. Y’owwn y’shev.
May life return you always
to your regularly scheduled



Russell Jaffe is a teacher at the Chicago Free School and the Co-Editor and MC/coordinator of Strange Cage (, a chapbook poetry press and reading series. He is the author of the poetry collections This Super Doom I Aver (Poets Democracy, ’13) and INTROVERT // EXTROVERT (Punk Hostage Press, ’14), as well as a few chapbooks. His writing about art appears in The Little Village Magazine and his poems have appeared in The Colorado Review, [PANK], H_NGM_N, Spork, La Petite Zine, American Letters & Commentary, and others. His baby, a collaboration with Carleen Tibbetts, is due out in August. He collects 8-tracks. He is online at



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