In a Dream
My brother doesn’t exist. No one has to listen to him detail the inner grooves of the chamber, how the recoil jams your shoulder joint No one has to know the difference between wounds & wounds. No… Read more →
My brother doesn’t exist. No one has to listen to him detail the inner grooves of the chamber, how the recoil jams your shoulder joint No one has to know the difference between wounds & wounds. No… Read more →
I walk through cold streets my face to waning sun and step into a café to order something warm and be among people, to wonder about them— what a marvel people of like strangeness find each other. And how odd it is that we show love with fingertips, bear the darkest parts we hide from everyone else. And how even… Read more →
He was into Bob Marley, so his parents chose reggae as the theme. A red-, yellow- and green-striped flag with “We Are Free” marks the scene—a break easily missed in the twisted road that flanks the high Galilee. His mom offers bracelets, with “We are Free” for the taking. He took that flag to the army. A missile hit his… Read more →
Been hoodwinked. Flattened by shenanigans. Bent misshapen in imitation of a downward facing dog. Pushed about the braid and swaddled. I hedge on the billow clouds. Laid my butter pouch alongside this quiet pond at dusk. I consider my resemblance. I’m in vigorous frisk of dismay. Been dimmed about by the brazen sun lowered into a cooling bowl. Within this… Read more →
My chair takes to air I need a stepladder in the steam that powers me to see the damp I hear my parents say … Read more →
i told my son about the flower the seed and root of the flower the ego of the bloom the little bits of stone that surround the flower to become part of a garden the ways the woods can darken without the flower and he ate the flower and he smiled and in his mind he became the flower he… Read more →
Don’t look for a unifying face. Rather, be the air that holds the bird, the dark at the perfected edge of lamplight, an expanding room of locks where disarray prepares itself. At my wedding I wore white, flat as I could be. This, so that later, a defector to the background, I could fool the pez-nerce viewer trying to guess… Read more →
in memory, Lynn The more she is crowded by tumors the more she chooses this: butter enough to choke a dog. Sugar piled on her Cream of Wheat. Roses that open gorgeously — she hobbles out to see. Her peonies outrageously sexy, the color divine. Whole churches push up from the ground to worship less. Looking over her work, brick… Read more →
In another universe there is a room where we sleep like planks. Sawdust drifts from the bedding; an apple in the mouth of the wounded. There are nine parts to this story, and a snake that takes its time with my throat. Sinew to sinew is penance for wreckage. For illicit tincture. Bone to bone is how I say let… Read more →
We let it sit, heavy thing with thorns. The table sags under limp stems. We poke at it, continue this blue dissection, brash miscroscoping. I could tell you how it feels to hold a dead thing, to be content with rings of pollen instead of metal. I want to lie and lie and tell you that I am the bad… Read more →