Each – as a Spoke

Each,we carrythe full weight of heaven,the piled dust that probes a cloudand falls upon a lockunruly in a faint breeze. Are we the air orthe stroke that cleaves it?Who’s to know. Who’s to resist the gas pullof Jupiter on this morn, westrung out like bandsof flax and false renditionsof self and need as tautas the […]

Like the Red Leaves

Just a forelimb on the road,careless as a twig,but no plunder for crows,no worthy feast for a scavenge,just hoof, hide and bone. And that’s how they left her,a narrow remain, somehowshorn and distant thrownas if her full and russet framehad been lifted, held aloftand in sacrifice taken up,into some sanctified boundingwhere car and deer ne’er […]

On the Burden of Deceit

Who shall bear the burden of deceit –betrayer or betrayed –for a hot lie steams in the streetlike water from a blown hydrant;giddy children splash and tumble,while placid truth stands in a cup,on the curb, for anyonewith enough thirst to drink it. Image: Mar Xiao Muñoz on Unsplash

On Betrayal

Would you betray a maple for its shade –deny yourself the cool comfort of dim light,sweet woodruff and fern, ground ivy,violet in spring? Columbine refusesfull sun. Your languors burn, blisterand peel with each maliced strokeof a chainsaw. Image: Michael Fenton on Unsplash

Ruminations of a Cook Between Rushes

Would that I never find a God or Gods,for that, that would end my faith. My faith –the certain unknowledge of knowinganything but the black ass of Jesus running away,laughing, leaving prints unpressed by wind,rain, and all things that erase a path – And the mocking torture of stigmata –welts and blister, scab and ointment […]

Away My Love

Come away.Come away and slurinto hovelling gray,away from the heatshummed low – away. Come, let us carrythis mute owl nightfar from burgeoning day –away – far from the furyof gospel – far –far from the scurryof commerce – away, Into some bold and barrenmoon scraped glen,smoothed with teeth and talonand then, away – awayinto the […]

The Many Ways To Describe A Wife

She the better part of a Thursday. She the sag wire and the juice run through it –she every porchlight, every red dot speckleon screens too big and sleeps too small. She the snooze alarm. She the copper Chardonnayon the back of my tonguelapping at some old kidney stone –some plump liver soon to rust.She […]