We still hear water fall, round, after dreaming

When every sound is mere mechanic,when every bird is musicbox —muscular with plucked brass tines… When a wooden doglifts a smoke to my fingers,loaded,pre-sentry, then,the fridge becomes winter,and the fog rolls rotary from abottom mount freezer —becomes haze and low beam. Then, then,in the scuffleof slippers in the brush on a tooth — startledand vague,small... Continue Reading →


It is down to small gestures:a forefinger lift from the wheel of a passing car,a glance and shallow grin, deepon a sunlit face,a hesitant wave, waist high,from a woman never met,tending roses. Image: Akira Hojo on Unsplash

The Measure

Is this then recalibration — to wake,unspecified, undetermined,as if the means of producing a facemelted into the moon, and the alarm now —whines of coyotes, dog legon my hip, and the tickof slippers in a darkened room. There’s blood in my drums,pumped in time with the click and fireof the coffee machineand the long black... Continue Reading →

On the Miracle of Cups and Twine

On a day unlike ours — how many hourson a string loose strung does our starling love pulsebetween a pair of paper cups — You, over there, not far,but further than you’ve ever been, dismissed to the dispensary —old tools, vague tones, muffled in a string between cups. But delightful, so delightful — mis-clarity or... Continue Reading →


Is this how stone hears rain?What an odd question to pose.But there it is: Is thisHow stoneHears rain? For now, today,this moment,this hour,this house.this body,this grain, Sits, As raindrapes over the eavesand runs hollowon stucco. And in this place,at the center of all things,where each stone is a stoneunyielding, Rain is rain,rock is rock,and one... Continue Reading →

Shut-in with Dog

If I were a sunlit dog,I’d bask in the road,eat from your can,shit on your porch. If I were a sunlit dog,I’d be feral as cats,wily as ‘coons -the mouse that chews your cables. I’d be the aphids killing your roses,and the black ants herding them there. I’d be the deer, the pheasant,the skunk, and... Continue Reading →

In the Mayhem of Silence

It all went limp -the bags, the cobwebs, the rain.even the chains - even the chains,draped loose as curtains, brush the floor.Even the gray stain on the pillow slippeda bit before pausing, the hinge unhung the door.And all the several fibrous hums -the fridge, the gripe, the train, the pipe -an octave lower than before.... Continue Reading →

Beans Water Fire

Sifting beans for stone,Praise thee this work of our hands.Pluck Pinto from sediment,Calico from jasper, Kidney from bone. And Praise taps run dry, lament thusthe last drop clung to the rim, suspendedRoman and hung as promise, as shrivelledGrace before a dry thick tongue. Don Sunday’s pleat to the river,kneel there and Praise gray the waterthat... Continue Reading →

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