Let me be a monster, or a child. Does not play well with others. Let me be cruel for once; owner of the ferocious dog, unapologetic of its snarl. I, too, am feral. I, too, have teeth that sink into animal. Let me tell the truth, risk losing you for good. I have earned this darkness. Paid for it with… Read more →
Not the blood moon in its fullest phase. Not the wedding ring I yanked from my finger. Not the cold mouth of the bottle I held to the O of my lips to drown myself inside. Not the womb I came from, that tight balled fist. But my child’s face, round and soft, perfect in the well of my palms… Read more →
we are dying my friend of loving one another light & shadow sun & stars we are guilty of rapture & faith even of beauty— new species of humans rise in the air my heart unfaithful child stop the rivers stop the vowels I could be again and like Medusa spit fire around we don’t pray but if we do… Read more →
the snare of last nightthe tug of the present thenthe thing done five years agoin the canyon tomorrow’s dinnergoing badly already rootsprouts from small woundsI awake with many heads hungrytake showers at odd timesthese small failings lenticelswhere the atmosphere is exchangedI take shape in their languagea millennia of yellow flowers thenwilt the way I ruin the earthjust by livingwatch national… Read more →
A boy (dark-haired, 10, shirtless) stands on the grassy top of a cliff.After a while, he begins to pick up stones to throw intoor at the turquoise ocean 200 feet below.His stones barely clear the edge and thendrop to the rocks below. He runs closer and closer before letting the catapult of his arm fling.Each time, the stones hit rocks,… Read more →
Did you get the kids to school? my ghost-horse-mind wants to know. The backpack zipper snagged again, I say. Did you take the path above the sandstone silt? asks the ghost-horse, Were you careful through the pocked dust-field, demands the ghost. I can’t remember how it was before the galloping, I reply. Ghosts, ghosts, ghosts! says the horse-mind. I can’t… Read more →
turn, and I will sprint desperatelungs over legsyour shadow a bouncing searchlight I need timeyour outline, your open mouthyou never let me hide in a gloam of juniper and spruceneedles and moss, damp patchesdecompose the controvertiblebranches alive with antsstepping in time onto highways of my hairmy belly aches to lie quiet, furnitureof bees, blanket of crumbling clay I want the… Read more →
(Aristotle) It seems to be true—as Thales put it— Everything is made of waterincluding my bathroom which just flooded.My mirror’s layers now include buckets.Fundamentally water is what freezes in my driveway or falls from yon sky,already solidified. There is no God waiting in my shedto hand me a new snow shovel (my last one was stolen). I do dream my way back to Lake Michigan sometimes, the ponds in the dunes above which float nighthawks in… Read more →
Headline from Brides Magazine // 24 June 2021 One night, five weeks after your funeralyou crawled out of your grave. You creptacross barren streets and gutters half fullwith autumn, dragging your legs and losing bitsof belly with each block. I didn’t hear your gritty, ceaseless groan when you struggled through the open window, when you writheddown the hallway, or at last… Read more →
settles on your shoulders to weep what bones won’t hear to sing grim-lit and groovy to dance a grief subdued descend the stairs like baby hair intransigent as snow that froze time on the sharp blades of your back