Because First I Found Your Eyes

If I had taken your handbefore finding your eyes;if I had traced the chippedrounds of your nails,and slid there - downto the calloused pads;if I had awakened a papercut, austere in the burdensof your fingers, would youhave recoiled, thought me -Fresh, unbounded, soiled? I would assumethat if I had mappedthe circuit of your toilsbefore meeting... Continue Reading →

On Rogue Waves and Love

Oh these blind trajectories,these pure set conditions,initial, merry, just so wandered -a shell thus thrown, a plungedalbatross beak, a shearedstab of ice, a moon’s pulland a breath elastic - All these and a calculus,as crest to valley lumbersin its way - sine to sine -chopped though ever freeand unlapped after. Yes, that is how to... Continue Reading →

Laundry

While logically consistent,I cannot cotton a multiverse.I must refuse a worldin which you never left home,in which I never went home.And I must refuse a worldin which your tires lost traction,in which your hands and cool reflex failedand you slammed a jack-knifed semi.And the one in which we slept angryfor the first time and dissolvedin... Continue Reading →

Slender As Dusk

Vanity! What say you to a tea-rose,a tulip, plumped for a measure of gaudyand scent. Would you fault the bee its lure?Would you slap the hand that coaxedsuch a fulsome bloom from a ditch wearyblossom - wild, drought heavy and pure? What say you to the rouged cheeksof young women, to the thumped chestsof young... Continue Reading →

Kennebecs and Tomatoes

Ah, that first year - when we still imaginedour sustenance - those first kennebecs,huge in the manure field, papered like birch,soft as creamed cheese. Dave’s mom planted there, but she was dead.He asked only a smidge of harvestfor the plot, new turned from blackand hereford compacted absence. And maybe he tasted his mother’s apron.Maybe he... Continue Reading →

Winter Kill

It is 4 a.m.,and a black dog breakscrust on old snow - stumbles.And a full moon loomsto reveal just easta crackling of limbs felledby gathered frosts and westa barn owl arcs silent - a slurryof cream, hunger and brownwinter kill hovered and plungedby moon and yellow porchlight.A black dog stiffens and sniffs -limbs give no... Continue Reading →

The Yellow Bucket

The ape of reason wakesinside the primate house -throws shit at the glass,at the gawking apparitionswhose eyes align with hisbut for a few seconds,his brow-heavy facegrafted to theirs. And he waits, waitsfor he that drags the yellowbucket, stuffed with limp greens,sprung grain and stink meat -the feast before a king,the grace of drab charity,there in... Continue Reading →

The Werecat and I – a dream rendered

A shadow fell upon my sheeted crown,and she whispered, “It is time, my bonny, it is time.”And when I rose, a linen for cloak,I stood shoeless on a cobbled road,squeezed on a Georgian lane,where tight faces hid behind tight curtains,dim shadows in gaslightwith green and scurvy eyes. With her palm light-pressedat the base of my... Continue Reading →

On Cloud and Hope

Bringers of rain and scour -Bringers of harvest and deluge,drift gently over this land,We beg you!We know not the grain of our toil,though we furrow the soilwith thick dumb handsonly to scream at our nailsprised from our fingertips. Is it not enough to put seed before youand hope? Is it not enough to visionfat larders... Continue Reading →

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