Author Archives: Zak

it is raining
hard in the city.
when
it isn’t it is
hotter.

unaccustomed, despite
the consistency. familiar
and, unaccustomed.

small-city coffee
shop; a body inhales
deeply, lustily,

fake brick
and faux stone.
a collection
of particulate hidden
in a narrowness between
walls. an unseen
irritant. a pox upon
lungs.

it is the culture of our family,
of our peer group,
to wear baggy sweatsuits
when we travel.

DRY FLOOR
on a five gallon plastic bucket,
affixed to the back of a truck.

i’ve chosen to
slide behind these
borders. blood
did not choose
me.

it is a make believe
normalcy. a fabricated
commonplace.
buy the coffee before
the work.
eight hours
normal.
ten hours
common.

stone still
heron silent
in shallows.
soft slate
surface dimpled
with rain.

they do not
say “i love
you”, instead
they say “love
to you”. a slight
variation; a massive
difference.

after unknown
lifetimes. in an instant.
that it’s a choice,
comes to form.

a dock with
your name. a
harbor. an
industrial park.
a building with your name.

a pair of simple
earrings. a disc of
inexpensive silver,
soldered to a single post.
made by hand
on a damp patch
of green earth.

not so much
extractive, but
consumptive. less
so a symbiosis, than
a parasitism.

lithium orotate
in case you are
over-activated.
inositol
in case you cannot
fall asleep.

a bird in a box. oil
blue bird. sea
black bird. a bird
on flat top of short
pole. eight foot
pole. eleven foot
pole. round pole flattened
on top. you talk
softly to the bird,

you may
remark, to
yourself, maybe,
maybe to your others,
any others,
you may remark,
“i have drifted”.

reduce the milligrams. give back
the milligrams. titrate. pull
the cotton from the mouth. the cotton
dissolves in the mouth, the mouth
again with the metal. with the wood.

finally
fix the sink,
so many months, even
years, after
its break.

they say, “we
are in love
now”. you
say, “i must
guard my heart”.

broad smile, blonde
beard. capacity for
kathmandu. capacity

the next
morning, the next
morning sun

a virtual
stranger. i know
enough
to know
the name.
enough
to stop,

two small sea birds
in a catastrophe
of perfect plumage.

straight backed
on a wooden bench.
it is very quiet.