Thursday, March 15, 2018

Oracular Theme

Send out the rocket dog, send out the ending. When the end ends we are all busted up about the death of myth. There’s no one to check if this hangout is dreamers all the way down. Me dreaming you and you dreaming the dirt I thought I walked on. And the world dreamed by some blasted leaf. Oh collection, oh page fraught with tedious wonder. Or is it loss? 

Who am I even asking? 

Our fingers test the flight from which we wrest our gods. All days are days of special finding, and every place a finding place. Can’t all skies look back down at us and ask? I’m the same light I’ve always been, only I’ve lost everything but my way. 

Thursday, March 01, 2018

Winter Waves, Ice World

I’m finally full of all those things. Bold numbness that I take pride in, rattling both my hands. I’m my own companion, whispering “someday” in the night. As I drift along your wet hillside, I hear the dogs and the rifles and I want to run. But there’s no continent without time. I’m the gutter and the aching cheap smile, wishing for a more tender history. How I work the ghosts in me, shout at them to slide me through the missile tube. Point me at that moving shadow, those drowning eyes. 

Saturday, January 27, 2018


Friday, January 05, 2018

New Poem in Matador Review

Hello friends.

Happy New Year!

I’ve just had a new poem published in the Winter 2018 issue of Matador Review.

Sunday, December 17, 2017

Every Wish

Monday, November 27, 2017

Morning More Softed


I’m just funny the way you like me, the way you dance. Your golden hair is all ablaze next to the lake in summertime. I sit smiling, cluttered with green leaves and tiny white flowers. The little bell you laugh gains momentum, barrels into us as we hold hands down old times. It’s this way for about a generation. Then we sleep.

Monday, October 30, 2017

A Bit Of Space

Wednesday, September 20, 2017

Condor In Gel Time

I’m using this truth to cover this lie: that your power is gliding around inside me: a condor in gel time. The far-seeing eyes and boaty wings are all our final loving in need. These water drops on my face are lit by the wishes I wish in the sun. Here is that moment I thought I’d lost, a little sugary thing that smells a bit roasted, a bit autumnal. A moment for only me that submits to your hands the way I draw them. Somewhere a volcano still doesn’t care. Somewhere a dinosaur bone is bulldozed. The heat of your face, your snake of a scarf, I pull you away from dinner. Hang on me while the world buckles, glittering grave.

Sunday, September 17, 2017

I Do Need Terror

Tuesday, August 29, 2017

Tangled Cup

Today is that backwards day. The day you are your father and you are for real walking through that bright blue door. Take your hand and see what’s outside, in trees and teeming. Candles, yeah? Tiny fingers flashing in air. You hear that crack and stand as an X while leaves move through you. Clouds descend on everything you love. Nothing breaks but goes reckless over the world.