Month: November 2017

The heat would hang high in the elms,
The air heavy with the season’s poison.
At night, I would listen to my parents’ voices,
Imagining that mote-like seed miasmic polio.

Sometimes at night someone
Would lean down and pass
Light and scent over my face.

i. Was when the dream came to its end, Was when I began again To make something of this guilty living, To make something of the mirrored moon-face Staring back at me with cunning caution, me, Or one of my father’s cronies,...

Why is it you’ve begun to think your life
Is something other, a neighbor you once knew
Muttering at night deep tones of meditation?

A plum colored bruise already spreads across one cheek
Eyes, pools of resentment and fire

Vincent in high school shone with the luminescence
that touches those to whom success seems inevitable.
A talented musician and gifted artist; I was fascinated by him.

He is intelligent and practical
Distant when he should move closer
Clumsy in his attempts to connect
But diligent in his efforts to show his love

Six-year-old Alex and I walk down sidewalk
cracked by the weather
the radiance of the blood moon
lights our way.

Come!
Follow our rowboat as
we cross the sea to worship
in the temple of Dionysus.

After five days, the numbers I used for counting became too tired and too sore to continue, but by then the leaves were gone from the ground. I had done my part.

Outside, the live mandibles carry
another missing body one mandible closer
to the edges of that heat-world.

After the autumn beings drift into the forest where sounds eat each other, remember not to look at the trees. (The trees are just the moments when you shivered the deepest.) Hide your voice’s fjords. Learn the hopelessness of...