ours holed in other zones smoke
is staked awake as digits peal
aware as every else as chores
trombonely in blue gloom spurts
or would in gelatinous wall fade
or weird windows are spiraling chant
jenny said that it was something to
or swoops a lottery shattered scatter
three moons perusal of full blast at
wow undressing manes of sheer mirror
for are are arms are lawn chairs are
whenever mood flakes artfully falter
dwiddling shutters of lips splashing
sparks of slinky troubled will play
kazoo of starfish pores will blurb
will shadow and stretch and will on

Welcome To The Pyramid

...a hologram aching with adoration and a vague hope of recovering fifteen billion sweaty ballads from the colour of opium. one could blast off into theoretical nights, or freely choose to squander the new Eve on remixed whorls of metaphor. the scarab's initial relation to superior fingers, it was all a harbinger of the sweet, unresolved fifth that augmented gravity, the codes revealed by your bare shoulder minus the lattice of smiling numbers. I ran through the flickering conspiracy, baritone impulses splashing at my exposed knees and thighs. the logic of evisceration drank prophecies from the fluourescent green foliage, a satellite was given enough answers to question. on the cusp of a digitized sunrise with blank eyes and a frightening message from the automatic, I mourned what was ironic in you, the equations that drifted without purpose yet were capable of dividing the bluest sky into the syntax of my upturned palms.


In Her Heart There Is No Heart

And in his nimble mind,
faint generosity has drawn
to a close.

They don't have anything.

She has applied subtraction
to distract him from

He has grown

The stalemate
a record of
failed breathing.

As though expensive
atmosphere has left
a place to be
filled in
with something

She wears color.
He portrays
the innocence
he carved
into a bar of soap.

Once a seam
always work
to do repairs.

The image of
small flight
before landing
on a branch.

Ideas about
connected things.

Hedge. Weeds
that look good
enough to be
considered flowers.


Mix Ta Nanna

As/Of any Anne Plath, Ur, Sylvia
Sexton, come und come Agin.
tis still sticky, sticking,
still jelly, gelling nn set,
sepulcher= twatch red lite, chalice
ov piss, strisms to tabernacle,
food to manu fricture hunger
while eating, een w thy eye out.



roll to stop

is at last
the empties

bottled and
triangulated in
cubicle corners

8 pocket balled
aimed, trashed,


fragged nouns
rolling to a stop


I Almost Like What You Are Doing

Yet the beats sound sore of breath.

I come close, the edges hurt.
But that is just my skin.
Painted over with young weather,
And that dries. Soon
A river comes to closure
at an open field.

My feelings elevate to an informal recognition.
The repeat tones seem whole along the way.
Some altars once closed off from likely symmetry
are wild places of feeling,
Long as these vibrating willows.

If I learn to listen, I can happen
To forget I used to want you.
Now that I am near, I have changed course.
The path is evenly positioned between
Flawless flowers miniature, wild with hue.
I want to know sky's blue habitue.
I have been swayed. This earth
Is like my own. This most uneven town.


One More Word Out of You and I'm Calling Animal Control

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Gabcast! Three Poems



proffer north and downstream surname (gesture to lo mein)
craft permitted and professional plots (sequestered)
beneath besieged peak (as rules clot)
qualified also peace frank (joy stick)
lorn diet about coin chaste (first things)
tongue quantity theory (walled off)

Hunt the Mood

Is circumspection deliberately local? Why are you so young again? Remember the omega lurks where you have cluttered. Any day now there will have been salts along the runway. Keeping you in keeping. Far away. The sadness aches in retrofit. Be long and tell me hope repairs the woodland sleep. Compare me to a viaduct. If you were breath, I might have taken pains not liberties. The secrets fill a host of summers. Is July enough.? Not quite amended. You can listen to the monologue and call it speech. You can be informed and you can nest. If anyone is there, you can appear as far as you have been away.


tree sleeve

seven of our saplings dry the earth

(earned affection rises and remains)

timetables woolen as that fully awake

(what people say to one another)

timbre ripens beneath stray sun

(beaches strewn with footprints)

the morning after a divider between years

(something to mull after the fact of it)