poetry
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Simile on the Morning
cherry wave moves fastconsumes gas spark oxygen ignites momentary true tearsapartasphalt gives it all away for pennies on the dollar corpseof oak wave of pattern-makinggone now so maybeaerated biomassbound to steel screws i once loved as a lecturewell cared forwhite curator of white curators my hands in my filial head translationconcrete as total aesthetic lossas…
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Dear Oblivion
i’vestubbed my tone againagainst the edgeof some other universeunder the weeklyfarmers marketnear the free whiskeysamples retireddentist whosummers in santamonica whoexplains volatilizationcharcoalfilters in his coronavirusmaskthe perfect giftfor clark i’vetaken off againaround plutoin the byzantineeyes of mannothing to dowife away i’veglanced out againfrom my crashingself sea i’venamed myself againspoiled oilspilled spinningtop approachesedge gravityangel’s sharebitter shipgasping heirto a…
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Dear Oblivion
So much light, dear oblivion, night after night; I offered up my body. You refused. I drank. Begged, really. Said my dreams, you don’t belong here. Some countable mornings ahead, crouched in the internet’s dark corners, hands reaching into prosaic brightness, not to gather, but offer: News spreads of a virgin conception. And so much…
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Dear Oblivion
Prayer peels soul from body. Robin-eyed memory of never known. The scent of winter jasmine, he writes. I ascent, with neither knowledge nor trace experience. Mouth crawls with the acid taste of spider webs. Begging, really. Dear Oblivion, I continue asking the drain — conduit from, passive voice, channel away — to do the hard…
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Dear Oblivion
dear oblivioni hear you shredding bonein the goldenplacesalivatingsomewhereunknowablea mangrillsmeata childscreams what i mean to sayis this, dear oblivion:i rememberthe littoral darknessof the rising afternoonthe light never having beenenough dear oblivioni hear youcrawling away
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Mating and Cuddle Settings
I want to callspecific attentionto the matingand cuddlesettings,becausethey result ina nearlyperfectbreedingsituation.
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Great Emotional Distress
from drinkher wifelaughs she breatheshard andthroat cracks in her sleepinglayers ofgreen magma rise upthrough her body herold girlfriend math the poemcan take a punchthrough green ice scream forattentionlike a snake withwings squeezing her neck why laugh now? thetrauma behind her backdid she rememberto brush her teeth with a knifeshe’s a small manand she assumes she…
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Monteverde Vecchio (excerpt)
my panting heartmy heavy voidcapturing leaf smokecurls the roomwhile i preparecrystal lapped boysto value a buckeveryone i knowis deadi’m dead toobut that never bothered me none handsome sergioknows the hoary hourevery day antoni sneaks offbefore lunchto fuckhis girlfriendviolethe presumesi can’tsmell the rosein his long black hair sergio’s allowance twirled onmontellianapaneraibrionithen alonein darknessarrangesblack chrysanthemums
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Architectural Digest (Martha Rosler)
“The contemplation of things as they are, without substitution or imposture, without error or confusion, is in itself a nobler thing than a whole harvest of invention.” Francis Bacon a preponderance of glimmer flutters from north to south diamonds sewn into family photos as though around the collarbone anything goes in time five cut pears…
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