When the floor disappears I lie against it, touch it cold, find a bass line to pull me along. I wait for night, pray for the sound of a storm. It’s not that I need to take down the stars— I’m not an astronaut or a saint. It’s how I glow hot behind my eyes, […]
E. Kristin Anderson
E. Kristin Anderson is a poet and glitter enthusiast living mostly at a Starbucks somewhere in Austin, Texas. She is the editor of Come as You Are, an anthology of writing on 90s pop culture. She is the author of nine chapbooks, including A Guide for the Practical Abductee, Pray, Pray, Pray: Poems I wrote to Prince in the middle of the night, and We’re Doing Witchcraft. Kristin is a poetry reader at Cotton Xenomorph and an editorial assistant at Porkbelly Press. Once upon a time she worked nights at The New Yorker.
Bury Me on the Highway (a golden shovel after Kesha)
I breathe the earth, wait for dark dirt just tipping into another body. Here I watch the shadow of a bruise press hot into me, a heavy flood. I follow it like anything I’ve ever found in the forest. In these veins the sap got stuck cold hard and I sweat fever. The pines see […]