Wednesday, April 1, 2015

The Northern Carrion

The northern carrion
Fooled by the stench of the skunk
Cabbage, ripe as rotting flesh;
Bless the hooded brown flowers
With a sweet kiss, while bees
Hum in their gentle winter slumber.

Thursday, January 8, 2015

In His Stomach it Grows

In the blue light of morning
In the golden light of afternoon
In the lavender light of twilight
In the plum sky and dumpling white moonlight of night

I see thee
I see thee
I see thee

He took a bite from
The girl who must be swallowed whole

She knows
She knows
She knows

Tuesday, June 24, 2014

Technically, dead

Eating warm peaches
Atop the fresh spring lawn
A whirling sprinkler dousing
A halo of crocus ‘round the Bradford pear tree
Bare feet combing the wet grass
Distant cry of the wind chime
Lazy teller of time—not urging in its tone,
But softly nodding
In harmonic compliment
With the hum of bumblebees wings;
I turn my computer on
Like a low flying bird into the grill of my car.

Thursday, May 29, 2014


Melted metal stare
Center of the Earth;

The Sun slows
To a honey glaze;
Surrendering to
A greater pull;

Light sliced
Through venetian blinds
Striping the bedroom walls
In amber and
Moving shadows;

Heals the day and
You stay.

Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Two Rocks in the Stream

Two rocks in the stream
Stop being so sweet to me
Minerals eroding into the water; whats yours is yours; and the animals is ours;
Cooking and cleaning; Dusting, and kissing
Kissing in the stream
Branches sweep the surface; ripples
Two rocks in the stream
Jagged edges smoothed;
Over time; Always
One way only
Into the water

Monday, May 5, 2014


A hotspot
Smaller than a dime 
On the edge of a spine of a dog left alone
In the apartment too long, grows to quarter size
When he gnaws at his infected tail.
When there is no owner there to yell at him 
To stop. Instead the silence feeds his anxiety;
And bowels raw, emptied on carpet,
On eggshell walls, in a paranoid frenzy, he will
Eat his own skin, until the sting from the open sore
Becomes numb.

Everywhere I see mirrors to avoid eye contact with—except the one
objectively accurate. They will tell me which one—Naked,
Jumping, nervously when I accidentally
Expose broken skin, and the chamber of echoes inside my chest.

Monday, April 7, 2014


Steam curling
Up from the kettle spout;
Around a portrait of the pourer
In early morning; clear and dark.
Red rim of the cup frames 
A change in its reflection;
Cream sprawling in
Black tea that’s steeped too long—
Inverted inkblot painting 
Of unnatural agriculture; 
Product of economy—
With no resistance
From the perfumed and perfect
Ancient leaves; earthy specks
That dance in white clouds like
Delicate wingless insects,
Unfurling and 
Unfolding, ceremoniously 
Swirling, impartially
In the thick, fatty