The hats tell us where we end up, a myth of hair. I am trying to bring flowers to the hospital equipment. How machines whimper without air. How birth is an airplane window & forests below. A lake full of manuscript pages. And so much alive this poem will never see. I don’t trust the moon wrapped in tin foil…. Read more →
The snow-coated blacktop steams. Gas leaks in the basement, mutts whinny at high-pitched steam. A woman exhales on her front porch, molecules tessellate to white steam. The cemetery granite turns to batter beneath rain, crackling, steaming. Domboski’s swing set is consumed by sinkhole—collapse, then steam. Graffiti on Route 61, its valley pried open to choked jaw of steam. Ladybugs climb… Read more →
Long ago the earth was made of sound. Cold soil was human murmur, water a fluid sequence of woven rolling tone. A single domain perpetual and loud. Its final morning we swam through compact cadence and riff. On the half-hour toll a roven whale slap tore the invariant sea— One place since contains only ground and us. Offshore iron cavern… Read more →
I sleep with a whale, says my mother, referring to my father, his body a leviathan hump in the bed, heating pad at full torque beneath his tailbone, space heater a hum. My father wears a thermal layer inside his pajamas, his skin thinned to cheesecloth. My mother runs hot, sweats in the sheets, watches him breathe through heaving lungs,… Read more →
The arm of the living room chair amputates itself again. Nothing stays whole for long around here. The right tool for the job may (never) be a (staple) gun or orphaned glove. A cracked dish can draw blood from a finger, preventing the injured from counting to ten. From the back of a kitchen drawer, the world continues to dissolve. Cities… Read more →
We were vampiric in our upside-down Cave love; her blood’s gross. I want her to drag me Around town like a torn cape. When I say her name, I slay her name Until my body-lights Go out. I say her name until her name Is all I have inside my head And I am totally not tempted To deep-search the… Read more →
There’s no wrapping it up on the island. It’s not tropical. I cross over a bridge to drive here, bike here. Some days I swim here, too. It’s Grand Island. Originally home to Seneca tribes, who called it “Ga-we-not,” meaning “great island.” Surrounded by the Niagara River. According to Google, it’s an island that was created “to make a new… Read more →
At the waterfall, I jump in and I trustWhoever jumps with me; we just work.If I dared you to do it, would you? Do I jamb the door to your heart room? I am a Time Lord or a lyric dunce;You are my worst and final judge. Your donkMakes me thirstier than the thirstiest horse On the ranch. Feed me… Read more →
a snake’s shedded skin paper bag thrown over your head daffodils beaming at the window every once in a while lives slithering in a small living room genetic hypermobility surnames and half-names and dead-names rivers changing with every body that enters we used to share one heart she says can’t you feel that now? mixed-up underwear folded neatly hamsters eating… Read more →
In recent weeks, my son has been claiming to be an angel. He holds his arms close to his sides and slumps a little as if from the weight of his wings. My wife placates him: “You’re my angel,” she says and feels his forehead often to see if he has a fever. “When did you become an angel,” I… Read more →