I stay several floors up,
blood in the streets
doesn’t touch
me, and my back’s turned
away
from the sun.
I thought I was slick.
I’m rather, what.
(less a living
person, more stuck together
with mud
than bones).
If
anything is holy
in this earth, I submit myself—
submit wholly
the way a pebble submits to water,
the way water smooths it over,
smoothed, shaped,
and un-sighed.
Though
if I stay
still
just so,
this room
will
hide me,
wholly
as I’ve
only known.
May 26
May 26, 2026 at 5:32 AM UTC
The leather man was
behind a great oak desk.
Leather boots
and shoes, piles of them, hid his face
from view. Leather shoulder
bags hung
like great unearthed roots.
The place was dark and callused
but glowed an old orange.
I came to have my only good shoe fixed.
He said, come back for them
in five or so days. His sound felt
as tough as leather.
This must be the leatherman:
mouth fed only leather;
tongue sensed
only fine leather; leather leash
round a thick neck. Entire
human shape
cut
from such fine leather.
Feb 5
Feb 5, 2026 at 8:37 AM UTC
"Oh marceline, my marceline,
what is it about a little sun's sheen
that scares you?"
"Is it that burn-at-touch like snow
or that slug-like swimming from below?"
"That shadow is no omen's crow --
and those little sunbeams shrill for a home."
"Let them sneak into your thighs, artery, vein,
and declare the black to cast a blacker rain."
Jan 22
Jan 22, 2026 at 4:06 AM UTC
There was crying
from beneath the sand.
It stretched as wide
as the coast. You could hear
them each time
the sea withdrew
and took away
hushed sighs. It was coarse
like sand.
I held the hand of my girl,
not any tighter.
Her smile seemed
the only true thing.
She stood deep in the sand,
and breathed everything in.
Jan 22
Jan 22, 2026 at 3:10 AM UTC
Already it's the afternoon.
Too late for anything of importance.
Where did my time go
this time? Too stupid
in this heat.
And idle
yes.
Look at the tree,
which demands only stillness
to grow and ample sun,
or the heart
which insists to be caged
in the dark.
Must be nice, might be
smart even (i.e., a coin
toss) to live
except to exist?
Jan 8
Jan 8, 2026 at 10:31 AM UTC
On this bright afternoon,
I turned on the television,
shut the window,
pulled the curtain down;
I had no need for
something as old-fashioned
as sunlight.
Ask the rats– they know
the joy
of feeding in the
dark.
Dec 23, 2025
Dec 23, 2025 at 6:57 AM UTC
Your lips smacked and startled
the saints as you slithered
out of your sundress. What was that expression
on your face: desire, deceit? Each
hair of my shape edged to your blood
rush like lightning
rods to your sharp breaths; I took
your hair in my fist, and pressed
the side of your waist curiously, who was that
hissing singsong? This was when I caught
you momentarily: this was when you were most
physical: this was when our pulse jarred together like
muted screams spun inside a loom: this was
how I robed a typhoon.
I observe the mannerisms of calamity through the window, astutely, as skylines and streetlights disappear. I see your faint reflection dispersed inside raindrops, your chest rising and falling, weightless as whispers in the mouth of a storm. I hear thunders in your sound-asleep. I cannot somprehend. Isee the wind tear a cloud apart, deliciously - just because.
Jul 5, 2025
Jul 5, 2025 at 4:20 AM UTC
Pressed my soles against your rosy bricks;
felt my bones familiar with your kitsch.
I loved it anyway: the houses
lined up like ducklings in bowties peach-and-
lemon, dumb to the pretense of their ton.
And while this ingrate-grey estate went on
with his tired litany, my eyes drifted,
somewhere searching past the weight of the wind --
what more deceits do I fit into my
pockets and bring home? I cupped a palmful
of air and sealed it inside a coat pocket;
one hand freed to take snaps of a daydream.
These hands will warm soon enough and these bones
will stop aching, these eyes will stop searching.
Jul 5, 2025
Jul 5, 2025 at 4:10 AM UTC
Shut up. I need you to shut up.
The lake is grinning. You can hear the lake
and its schemes, the umbra behind
all that mesmerizing blue.
Blue is color dead to itself. Blue is the cataract
called sky. Blue pretends while the infinite
animal runs naked running
its fingers round
the swell
of stars
that sweat
like oysters.
Ah.
You can’t drown in that blue. Now shush.
I hear the lake undress.
Jul 5, 2025
Jul 5, 2025 at 4:04 AM UTC
This heat, my darling, is no more a sin
than sigh & gasp slid shudder mouth-to-mouth.
It is my love frothing; my garden blooms
beyond the bliss of the sun rolling back.
I’ll have you swear this heat, creature, and taste
behind that pulled-down shade. Your fingertips
tap the windowpane like hot-metal hooves:
soon you’ll feel my throat tending to each curved.
True – there’s no ape under an umbrella,
as the mouths of a shade hook petals to teeth.
Yet your heart-valves curl into a wide smile
and tease my secrets at me underneath.
Pour your breath like liquor. Lick the fire
in your skin –eyes whiten to desire.
Jul 5, 2025
Jul 5, 2025 at 4:01 AM UTC