Potluck

 

We're making some fixes under our table...

Potluck 2.0 launching soon! See you in the new year!

 

Four Poems

Bathroom Poem #1


My favorite urinal—

Third from the left, 

Glistening white and pure,

Ready to receive me. 

 

 

 

Bathroom Poem #2

 

that night in high school when
we streaked down my street,
who slept with whom last night,
or what she said    after
you told her you loved her—

zipping up,
there is nothing more
romantic than pissing
next to 
your best friend.

 



 

the fever and the fret


seven thousand months to make 
a dent in time


the average person takes five thousand
breaths per day


nostalgia is a word 
that should not exist

it was created in a hurricane
of lemon juice and whiskey

the bird, the plaintive tolling that 
brings me back to my 
sole self


fading so far away 
from you 

 

 

 

Untitled

 

Walking your pup
in the dead
of night

What have you been
up to?
Where are you headed?

The next morning I eat
buttered toast with
raspberry jam
breathing slowly at
the very thought of you

 

 

 

 

Nate Cabral drinks a lot of whiskey and reads a lot of Keats. He lives in Brooklyn, NY.