Poetry

And this time when she asks, The world will end, won’t it? a black river of crows will be rowing out above you, heavy oilcloth of wings working over slanted roofs, dark tents of sycamore. She will tilt her small head skyward. So that watching her, you could almost glimpse the secret greed of time…

was the often walks            it’s in all the books—psalms, Solomon,                                           the ones with all the pictures of men walking at night.      A legion of staves, and etched onto the leaves,            where here I have witnessed some blind world of the blind beneath a torch held in a sheaf on which sketched, a face,   Says…

Adumbrate. Omne animalum               post coitam tristam sunt. Had this boyfriend once recited Latin to me as we walked across the campus to B & E an empty house—some physics major. I thought romantic. As in, the streetcast shadow adumbrates the sleeping wall. A fickle, melancholy, sketchy trait. See more at umbrage. And if I partially…

Do you have roots? Or do you picture yourself an astronaut inside      a bubble suit. Altitudinous above the troposphere, suspended like candy below     the exosphere. Connected to a stalled, mechanized version of your future self by     a twisting. Gold umbilicus: how sweet to be (simultaneously) the     perpetrator and the crime’s. Sole…

He wanted a cave. Spoke back to vices out of the alley, where hummers and hearses flashed like a toy gun’s blanks. Coats he lent to children raised by wolves. In a classroom, the uniforms asked him to write his name over and over. Then he auctioned his wife. He wanted a cave they gave…

The idea for moth came when soliciting the moth. Moth? Is there more than one solitary powder? Moth: contiguous end-time pellets precede the grackle supper ring. The idea for elk came when I felt this elk rejecting me. I looked at him and he looked at me but the sensation was missing. It was as…

As were the others realized rather than invented. Diamonds write on glass. François 1er, 16thc. idly etching women are fickle into the pane as he stood gazing out over the river or on water will this                                       diamond ring engender that which changed it, changèd were                                       for:                                       diamond is to ocean                                       what…

You were not gone but asleep through the slideshow, and you were gone the projector pointing skyward, the ceiling quivering with our faces. Are there many sizes of infinity? These are stars, this the black tank, circular glass, a worldless plankton, which are leave, a worldless plankton, which are come. Wake now. O mountains O…

Intense bursts of energy are now emanating from the sun. And     you are lit from within. Like it ain’t no thing. “I am lit from within!” The seconds so     facile to glitter through. But there is only so much a light switch can do for you. Soon the     fog resolves the gold….