our bungalow darkens

A scrap of dawn light
approaches the tracks at the
speed of

Beauty strains
choice and measurement
we’re stumped
what can we say?
there is a standard
choice is real

worm rot

some pain lead
me to our introduction
what do you think of my new glasses?

what was the world like before lithium and Zoloft?
how were breasts bound up for sport
before spandex?

there was love
like a smell
of rare disease
in your

i rarely think of you
now, behind the big door
sodden with wine
working your freedom
like some version
of America the miracle


it’s a summer’s night without
I’m on the outside now
only my art works miracles

scuff bubbles
blister knobs
the promise of

did you think yourself
a thought pleasure

can i tell you
a question mark

in spirit
there was a secret
road that lead
to this paragraph

it was two feet
photographed bare
on wet rock

what friends?


When they suggested
picketing the sewer
I prayed to the
god of Mantis

He said there are
no rose gardens
or ancient maps of the world
The moon rises everywhere
and on Sunday
the blood work
will beg for flowers
and the body will rip
nourishment from
pretty bird roots
perch perch perch

Where’s your decency
your camel hair
your sheepskin?

Don’t be alarmed
all my teachers
came from North Dakota
Cuba and the long arch
of St. Louis.

it is in jeweled light that
I speak your death
not to your alarm
or amazement but
for the sake of unspeakable
odds alone


a drop of water
viewed through a
conquers all childhoods

what are the odds
the luckless girls
would drop into
unbreakable encapsulations
of sky-less stars
burning their thermo

30 years go
when i slept in the field
of quiet bees
I felt valor in the
sex of your evaluation

a fiction in your diction

a predilection in your benediction

the waves of darkness
are now assuaged
spring has disappeared
and silent soft wings pierce
the night air

our bungalow darkens

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