Matt Denis Poems

they are nothing, the Autumn
and
tiny feet that tread steadily toward
undisclosed locations
...

A) fragmented life story
interiority, if you will (i called this one 'alone')
your eyes provoke the night’s conscious panting,
a tangible thickness that collects ceaselessly on all four sides of a dimly lit room
...

For Rosie

I.
They were sweet-sad, I think,
...

I don’t have a garbage disposal
And when I don’t take the garbage out everyday
The fruit flies start to gather on the old watermelon in
The sink,
...

i dream you as a stray cat
untethered, dark-eyed girl,
yawning your way around another frozen,
yellow-lit street corner
...