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 →


Like this not thisLike false echoPhantom limbLike tickLike eyelid tickingNot thisLike grain like siloLike slopeLike augerLike this not thisLike slum cake muldoonLike thisLike plasterLike tickLike swallowLike heartbeatLike pulseLike violetVioletViolet Image: Dominik Scythe on Unsplash


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 →


Between one breath and the next,a slender pause at once puffed and collapsed,at once minute, at once stretched: The day you left home for the last time.The day that green house on a hillbecame a frame, a shingle, a lossand the blind shutting the eyeof a window, once yours, once mine,at once the nestle and... Continue Reading →

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