A poet’s work is to name the unnameable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world, and stop it (from) going..
LOVE CAME TO DESOLATE CITIES Old bones are percussion instruments Colliding to music played in buried cities. Most cities sing a funeral dirge to..
heat you spoke to me in the language of divinity: your words, a prophecy. your touch, a laying on of hands – a prelude..
“I saw Gideon,” my sister told me on the phone the moment I said hello. “Which Gideon?” I asked “Gideon of Number..
Droop Song shaped like a light bulb in a distant home, like the earth on the eye of a telescope lit by sunbeams greenshadows..
lakes and confessionals i kneel before the confessional. the priests’ voice is driftwood on a lake of abuses; it reminds me of beatings. how can..
Most good stories about cars often start with either a good ride in them or a gratified attempt to own them in their grandeur...
A kiss remembers; how tongues launched bodies into orbits of white nothing, milky ways of no worries, eyes shut beneath a river of twisting..
“How does the story end?” her hand, the one that wasn’t holding the microphone, flew in the air and fluttered around slightly at the..
“I don’t usually do this” Your mumbled half-lie drops through the air alongside his belt. Eyes dart left, then right, then left, then right..
