Author Archives: Zak

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.

yesterday,
it was all
over.

i was using it
for evil
though not
intentionally.

it isn’t so much
that you’ve forgotten
to lock your door,
as it is
you’ve lost the desire
to do it.

May
is a good month
to leave.

a finger
missing above
the second knuckle.

if you learn young
to keep bound,
it can be difficult
to ever unbind
yourself.

some ancestors
worked hard.

the brake
dust makes
for a spectacular
sunrise.

the bright
red hat says
“USA”
on the back.
though
maybe
it says
“LISA”.

if light
from the sun
can take
your darkness
from you,
yours
is a darkness
i have never
known.

white
up against
blue.

we can all take
turns.