Saturday, January 13, 2018


Prayers in the shapes
Of smoke curse from a guttering candle 

Arrive in the clouds after hours
Of meandering--

The heat wastes no time, but the char
Refuse and the realization
Stick around. 

A leaflet of event light lies unscooped up.

It's a dirty barn with the lights on. No joke

A series of nods--a ball bouncing off

The noses of dolphins as they mimic
The legislature--blue or gray, or

Blue, because not gray.

Friday, January 12, 2018


The gossip and impatience of nightly rain
Are the ideal comforts--

I couldn't pick just one!

But in an instant we burst
Forth from the wine cab

And briefly instilled the possibility of
Dryness on the stones.

--the smart deckle of laughter. Always.

Likely always.

Sunday, January 7, 2018

A light curse

By now I'm almost gone.

Between the tan hair and ashen end
I was finely dealt with.

I could elevate the moment and say,
"But I rise",

But I don't rise.

So many of us committed suicide at the same time
That memory eased up a bit, used only first names--

Nicknames for the Johns .
Nicknames for the virgins.

I used to look up at night to the coin of sky above the well where
I wound up.

As if counting out along with me I would with Them catch the feathers that fell where
Individual ribs should have been.

And with each I would remind myself that I to it--not it to I

Was close to a captive mercy,
or answer.