Author Archives: Zak

having forgotten her
birth,
she forgets
my name.

morning
gray, leaning
into heather.

the bones
move, are moved,
so the head aches.

your why
casts about
with its variegated shadow.

your want,
eclipsed, engulfed.

eyes tick
to the clock.

not wanting to be
alone, so,
coffee shop. so,
library. so, bar.

outside, the sun
is setting.
inside, the face
is blue.

clear-framed
glasses. a
woolen hat. pure
wool. made only
of wool.

not at all looking
forward to, though
not actively
dreading.

so far
unable to generate
any interest.

our executions are now
a lot more
public.

indeterminate age.
initially indeterminate age.
large glasses more oval
than square more oval
than circle but still
circle still square.

a box full
of pastries, sweet
fruited pastries, baked
and savory pastries.

the little flowers.
the small hearts.
the designs made on the top,
unnecessary, to you,
unnecessary.

the forecast says
sun so
you leave
with no coat.

in the airport.
in the park.
in the car moving,
not moving.

it is important
to get the details
right.

in the soft brilliant glow
of morning,
feathers drift down
around you.

you can keep the hair
clipped
to a certain length.

you feel ancient hands
around your throat.

when i was
young
and wet and
hot
and able
to focus myself

the body
is a focusing.

a forest made
of rain.

there is some kind of seed
in the air.

you will get to know
this photo
well.