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Scout Faller

My Dead Name is Shared with a Houston Rapper


& I would never wear blundstones 

You can find me working 

Outside of my essentia

Reconstructing myself off my phone

Grabbing the aux

Polyester halter top

Suburban housing tract freestyle

When the mirror spoke, it said


After that, she lost me

Face agnosia but personal

Years ago

Is my name on my birth certificate

She calls to her mother 

Who art in heaven

We all need an interlocutor

The Duchess of Sussex

Leaning in a denim mini

What’s under that hood

A long torso in 2007

A fashionable accessory

Cars have a rich interior life

The desires of cars must be studied further

Sometimes they let cars direct movies

This guy would confuse me with a girl named Polly

A writer named Casper

No one looks like the other

We’re all blonde

Polly’s an artist

She makes sex toys out of bread

The guy had a waxed mustache

Scrawny local socialist 

In that city, he could not have been anybody

Grazing on his face

Its middling distance

I did not correct him

In the beginning there was the Word


i thought i could leave

old barn old

growth cold feet

the whole time,

i’ve been walking

thinking i was writing

my girlfriend’s green

against blue

important to capture it

capture her, but flatter

i watch her

watch deer. a feeling

so unbearable

we refuse it, what

guilt is, you

were thinking

of children, growing

in the backyard

scraping the seeds

of pineapple guava

it’s always something

eros and houses to cry in

naked ladies out of

season pink, the

breath you smack

into me, stepping

in and out of

this feeling, our heads

pointed towards

stars. drawing

of a clock in

blue ink, a position

from which

i keep opening

Scout Faller is a poet, and never bored. They live with their girlfriend and their cat in San Francisco. Their poetry has been shortlisted for the Surging Tide Writing contest. They've been published in HAD, lowly dirt children, Bullshit Lit, and Dream Boy Book Club.

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