See how the white crosses rise out of the ordinary, this stretch of freeway indifferent except it holds the loss of someone loved. Bent in the ditch empty of rain, the mourners are artists assembling silk flowers, pinwheels turning in the sun, stuffed teddy bears, t-shirts, handwritten letters, into public sculpture. Monuments of faith, of…
I am your favorite sound.Say galangal and the tongueretreats. Say rhizome and the rootstalkshoots out new growth.We pull it from the ground,carry it gently: a hand. A harvestof red-veined petals we rubon our lips. Tonight, when my ear hungers,I will feed it song. The metallic talkof hummingbirds. The unfolding of a letter,a shovel hitting rock,…
is really three differentmechanized sharks plusfootage of one real shark filmed during a trip to Australiafor that specific purpose. The parts of JAWSthat frighten are the parts where you can’t see the shark. They’re scary becauseyou can’t see the shark. They had to work arounda malfunctioning mechanical shark, rewriting scenes so the shark’s presenceis suggested…
We used to say field in English where we now say battle, where we still say battlefield. As in: many a bloody field was fought. As in: at night, I survey the adrenaline-addled field of my brain. As in: when I’m deprived of sleep for days, the air in the black room holds tiny points…
So thick with sphagnum a person more sure-footed than I amcan balance on its undulating surface, even cross from side to side.Didder. British for how a floating bog quivers when someone steps on the rotting leaves, reeds, and mosses built up over time.What will I find in my mire if not the leathery bodiesof dead kings and commoners? Bent…
AVAILABILITY A boy and a deer, a god-boy holding his window, his mirror. Daphne resting in the window and the curve of the boy’s back. The deer’s delicate legs and hooded Orca eyes. Daphne calling her father, she has no father, she has one of many common river gods for a father who does his impotent,…
there is a welcome posture the sun does I wait for it hold myself against it all day hang a string on my ear with a note saying let’s get this place cracking your encouragement was everything at first I thought your tiny sponge was no match for my muddy window I want to be the friend who accepts your gifts sing with wind as though it is a duet then suddenly it is none of them write poems any more the spirit said don’t speak to me you have lost your position in my heart make a noise to get the mouse looking over here all gravity ever did was hold us down whether or not falling gets up in the middle of the night for a little falling in love or falling off a cliff I’m fine to never see them again but I do miss their poems he threw away the only recording of the poet moths circle the brightly lit head of the reporter telling us the body count of the latest war in the rot and filth of a landfill is the poet’s voice I cannot stand it my god picking through garbage I hear you poet-antidote keep singing I will find you please don’t stop singing for ten years I lived in my car people asked where are you going I always said I’m traveling away the wanderer the road knows the intestinal trans expatriate I met a man who feared termites though his house was made of stone I wrote on truck stop walls DEAR SLEEPWALKERS EVERY US TAXPAYER IS A WEAPONS DEALER in Mississippi I touched the pig’s heart in a jar for weeks I saw other worlds of clover could sense the romantic fusion of living and dying in a frying pan left with a divulgence what else is paradise losing if not our trust
I want to thank you dear sister, dear clouder and mister,for your rain and your dew, your dew and your rainthat make so much flourish on my arid terrain, my robe of all flowers, my wells and my cisterns. Dear Body of Water, dear evaporation systems,I want to thank you for your fogs and your drizzles,your…
Maybe I was asleep in dawn, the grandestdame that ever unbent me like a willow. Isn’t nature my ma, my salve and solving?Soon the sun had arisen, leaving velvet marks on foxes secure in ferny hideouts,squirrels thronging for fallen acorns, branches torn from oaks in tornado watches, cloudycovers on me. And all my secrets scattered….
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