Author Archives: Zak

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.

a cleared patch
of land next to
a wooden house
gone migraine gray
through the formless touch
of time.

a blue black bird
hops impressively
behind and away from
the long trailer
of a truck.

a blonde wooden room
breathes silently.

at the cafe
with the sun
brutalizing
the floor
in through
the wide dusted windows
drinking milk
and eating salad

the day is forested
in gray,
though not so
thick
as to blot out
the surrounding hills.

a bed
not quite long
enough.
sleep
at an angle.
sleep at a slight
curl.

sometimes
it is
smokestacks.
pipelines.
derricks.

in every heartbreak,
yes,
opportunity.

no one
has made me feel
as worthless
as you.

i preference
my pleasures.

with my needs
met,
you
are of no use
to me.

not
to do it
quickly.

his car
the color of a shallow
southern ocean.

water.
with minerals
in it.