And I’m left on the heels of that summer girl from summers ago...
Five inches of snow with coffee
Underneath the Echo
It’s like blow in a hollowlike didgeridoo —a coo into madnesslow slung lowhammock of an old song— numb, the breeze of hercool like swallow Come songCome song come gut come loose stringCome song come song come home song She tap in the windowsmear in the middensdrop dead arterial — right nowwheezing in a pumpmumbling in... Continue Reading →
Without Power in the Basement Gardens of Grace
We had Yugo ham / ham on a string —tough in the closet. Fuck it was cold, like your breathhung for days in the candlelight,no different than that flat ass smokecrushed and shit-scared to rise. We had ham and Bulgarian goatcheese — a winter’s worth of dry,crumbled, a peasant’s worthof pocket knife, salt and thin-sliced... Continue Reading →
To My Brother
You found a pinky in the woodpile,underneath some wet leaves.You brought it back to the house,hairless and blind, shivering.Satch said it wouldn’t survive an hour,without its mom, without its nest,but you gave it a name, cupped it in your palm, drew milkinto a paper towel, and it suckled,briefly. And in one minute seizure,it was gone,... Continue Reading →
The Top
I will tell you what I saw,when my eyes first opened. I will tell you how,in the first recollection,all things come to be: I was three years old,sitting on the floor,holding a blanket. I was sitting on the floorholding a pale blue blanket. I was spinning a top. I was spinning a topwhile sitting alone,... Continue Reading →
Table Of Contents in a Book Unread
PrefaceShe Denies a Killing as Faith PresumesAnd the Old Dogs DieThree Books and a ShadowOn the Tower Overlooking the ChurchyardMigration and Other Foul WindsIn the Gamble of SavageryUpturn Cans as Vandals Sack RomeLike Emeralds in a Steel MillA Transplant / A PiningThe Vibration of LiliesAs All the Black Suns SpinIn the Tedium of BallisticsAnd Another... Continue Reading →
And Boys Play Savage in the Suburbs
We were friends once,before we sharpened scrapsfrom unfinished homesat the dead end of Cypress. We eyed ‘em true, those moldings,those sharp stones dug from the creekbed,those wires, thin and strong,each the color of our choosing — mine the striping of bruises,yours the venom of snakes. So proud and ballistic we,makers of spears in the suburbs,makers... Continue Reading →
Once the Pagans of Patapsco Wood
We laid snake bone by the rootsof the four trees fused at the waist. We dug tourmaline in the creekbed,dry that time of year and every yearbetween honeysuckle loam and wood rot. We sniffed skunk weed from the pitwhere the freakshow gathered and blazedup a bonfire tacked of pith and reeds,quick lit and soon extinguished.... Continue Reading →
Pulse
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 →
A Portrait
We called him Mr.Chins cuz he had four of ‘em.We called him The Chizzler and he hated it:Always chugged a brew before playing the rube,And taking the pot for himself. He whiffed a’ porkrinds and blackjack,And his lip ticked for the snow.He sucked down the Jaeg like a hunter,Too loose and obtuse with a bow:... Continue Reading →
