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.
Category Archives: Poetry
hydraulic crane on back of flatbed dually pickup truck
not so much
extractive, but
consumptive. less
so a symbiosis, than
a parasitism.
from one fifty to three hundred due in part to past periods of exogenous excess
lithium orotate
in case you are
over-activated.
inositol
in case you cannot
fall asleep.
discussing the ages and behaviors of various others who are not currently present
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,
not an illness so much as a disorder
you may
remark, to
yourself, maybe,
maybe to your others,
any others,
you may remark,
“i have drifted”.
no longer wear the watch
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.
the inherent joy of the renunciate
finally
fix the sink,
so many months, even
years, after
its break.
astrid (a)
they say, “we
are in love
now”. you
say, “i must
guard my heart”.
turn it on and then pause it
broad smile, blonde
beard. capacity for
kathmandu. capacity
currently in the lead for dumbest culture and country of all-time
the next
morning, the next
morning sun
humpback whales in winter
a virtual
stranger. i know
enough
to know
the name.
enough
to stop,
boom bap in a land of banjo and fiddle
two small sea birds
in a catastrophe
of perfect plumage.
twelfth night of the waxing moon
straight backed
on a wooden bench.
it is very quiet.
everyone you know is unknown
it is not
an anti-depressant.
it is
an anti-seizure.
waiting for the error to work itself out
the coffee tastes
like grapefruit. tastes
like green hay.
float to firmament to float
twenty eight ravens all
lined up on a railing.
their presence,
a making sense.
pop the trunk and let the roof recline
no idea
what the hand is
doing.
the turn signal
is on. you
notice the turn signal
is on.
metal meat mineral atop stone stiff still in a bending wind
oil slick bird
ten feet above gray
eyed concrete on a matte
brown pole making
sound like falling
water.
well-practiced at playing it cool
even though it’s not
cold enough, i am
still going to wear
this scarf
today.
no one is stopping
me.
a population of painted wooden approximations
alone
in a vessel.
you know her name though have never been introduced
you noticed her
when she arrived.
you did not look directly
at her. then,
you looked directly
at her.
regional dance culture marked by body movements replicating staccato tap of snare drum
the rain is quick
now on the heels
of snow.
a week on a psychiatric floor so as to plump yourself with proper hydration
the bathroom, tiny
bathroom, fiberglass
bathroom, quarter inch
bathroom. no bath.
unnaceptable levels of gluten
a strange mixture
of mostly naked
and digitally manipulated
bodies, violence
of varying degrees
of intent (both
joy expressing as sorrow
this is how
i look. i smile
when the camera points
at me, smile
when i pass others on the street.