Tag: W. Todd Kaneko

Begin with a savage cry,                                                         a spray of cardinals             gouting gorgeous             from gut to tonsil,                                                         from a boy’s lips, glossed in crimson & fire—                                                         teen angst dashed by             bat wings, mouthfuls             of graveyard sugar,                                                         bruise shine & stars— in leather & choke chain,                                                         a boy can separate into             curses a man will one day             remember…