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The Swell of This Heart's Compass
This love I grow will be wound all through the fibrous strength of my musculature, woven between tendons and bones, pooled in pockets around cartiledge when I rest. I want to be hated for it, roundly...
View ArticleLimb
I will always choose this road, this that runs with yours. No idealistic resolution, no lie of present comfort, this is no promise. What is becomes. Not always easy or kind, it is what must be, and I...
View ArticleOut In the Black
That night,I stared up at a bright night sky,country bright without urban competition,and whistled quiet and low,waited on the moonto come down into my throatand refine that wasted voice,waited on...
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Time In a Vacuum
I was a child in the morningwith spring air shiftingin waves through windowsover the bed,across the sheets,and between toes which I spreadto see the sun redthrough the webbing between them.An ironed...
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Days With No Hope In Them
There are days with no hope in them.The sun sits beyond the treeshadebeyond the window,the cars hum beyond the grassbeyond the outer wall,there are feet somewhere scramblingthrough leaves and...
View ArticleMore Than a Temporary Traveller
You worry that you are oldin your blind little spot of dark.You worry thatno one would have youeven though you are already had.You lie, eyes open to the nightas though you were ill,an illness, a...
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Smoke and Rainwater
You are a far thought,a dim afternoon on a wet daytwenty years ago from behind a glass —I listen to the old pock of your gently thumped glassagainst chipped laminate and a local paper —a comfortable,...
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The Relationship With Water
I ran the cool water,placed my hand on the faucetfor relief in that room,but my heat pushed up in a sudden flush,spread through the airfrom my wristin a cloudthat overtook my torso.With the...
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Before Diving
I felt the water hush and glidebefore the surface broke,before my toes had curled over the rough dockwhile I still lay wrappedin wool war blankets that scratched my skinand considered how tired...
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Low-Slung Sun
The light and darkof a low-slung sunhidden by an elmlet us spy on the lapse of light:I felt like I'd gotten away with something.
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Any Which Way But Loose
In the full photo,she is drunk,or maybe it's just too hot.Her shirt gapes to show a cheap brassier,hair sticks to her forehead.It makes her look thoughtless,loose,like she's just drunk enough to take...
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Where I Am From When I Am Tired
I am from white hot baths to boil out demons in the dark, from Drum tobacco rolled soft in the back of bars, and from the exhausting longevity of post-church afternoons when the burning proved...
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Perpetual Motion Machine
I forget that things are not always at an end.I sit on the bed and look down the hall,and I think,What is this life? How have I come to this point?as though I came here,as though I arrived at a...
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Blackout Poem #1
The following blackout poem was created using a randomly chosen page out of Stephen King's Joyland. In this case, I used page 65. This human beinginhabits that undeniable condition,a priceless dream...
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Blackout Poem #2
The following blackout poem was created using a randomly chosen page out of Stephen King's Joyland. In this case, I used page 255. When you move away,make home happen first.Drop the façade.Lay on the...
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Blackout Poem #3
The following blackout poem was created using a randomly chosen page out of Stephen King's Joyland. In this case, I used page 181. He withdrew from her.Her voice pitched questionsalready answered.She...
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Blackout Poem #4
The following blackout poem was created using a randomly chosen page out of Stephen King's Joyland. In this case, I used page 217. The wind moanedthe troubling thought:You can,because the world'smoved...
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Blackout Poem #5
The following blackout poem was created using a randomly chosen page out of Stephen King's Joyland. In this case, I used page 167. I feel I'm reeling.I thought I wasted nothing,but the windwill notlet go.
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Blackout Poem #6
The following blackout poem was created using a randomly chosen page out of Stephen King's Joyland. In this case, I used page 275. The night had a crazy tattoo.I knew before you did.I could hear the...
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When It Was Like a Tree On Fire
Sometimes it just happened.My chest was a sprung cage,open,lit up like a fucking tree on fire.There’s nowhere for that kind of thing to go,there never is,not really,but it's gloriousand everyone can...
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