circles move in the light
like halves of peaches
in the orbit of God
this bushel of halos
sunders, returns, sunders,
catching itself by the rim,
miming the thumbs of lovers,
the silky tumult of dreams,
the cascading rings of troubled water;
turning itself infinitely
on its pate of Blue
May 23
May 23, 2026 at 12:38 AM UTC
stones slide across the pond
like heavy eyes
in the woods a feast of marrow
simmers idly in the heat
the young burst with forgotten tongues
foaming, stretching themselves
up towards a milkless cloud:
I want I want I want
May 23
May 23, 2026 at 12:19 AM UTC
Purchased in the Time of War,
before the market television
and commercial bon-bon maker,
the fryer
burps up its little pieces of flesh
while diagonal janitors
**** in the air and
tongue an original sin their
billion eyeless
hands searching the fat
for hot nails to crucify
their palms over their
hearts.
Mar 23
Mar 23, 2026 at 4:31 AM UTC
Along the seawall, foam-gray
spires of ancient *****
A gull, madly squawking;
dragging salted wings,
whales shore themselves
in hope of flight.
Feb 20
Feb 20, 2026 at 3:08 AM UTC
Soon
our wait
a baby
to autopsy
god
Soon a doll worrying over its attractions
soon its souvenir a nicotine
patch
from its father’s
arm
Soon a perfect face
shrinking touch
in the smuggled
stomach
of a shy
ocean
Soon my atrocious renderings
of ****
animals, soon
a beetle
on its back
is a flower
Feb 4
Feb 4, 2026 at 3:14 AM UTC
A rabbit with a ****** nose nudges in a weak world a cross to surrender its math to the slack call of collapse. My brothers paint my body in a dream where a coat’s amnesia is a crime that snow blames on an Ohio addict whose mirrors belong, belong, belong. Oh golden fetus your undug eye. Your sightseeing as surgery on the predictably sick. What would you become if it were the last creature running that your parents would see in a field at the same time? Existence reached us. Then stopped.
Feb 4
Feb 4, 2026 at 3:13 AM UTC
In the year of the Ant,
men were crushed beneath
the rubber of golf shoes
and we became besotted
with the whirl of the
weedwhacker.
In the year of the Ant,
we carried food to the queen
using only our mouths
and were permitted to bite
once a day
to sate our hunger.
In the year of the Ant,
we made constant war
against the arachnids
so that we might have
enough silk with which
to wrap our dead.
In the year of the Ant,
we followed the scent trails
of our fathers and grandfathers,
even though
a storm had blown a tree
across the route.
In the year of the Ant,
we spun around
and around
in pursuit of
a long-ago
promise.
In the year of the Ant,
we were enormous--
we were many, so many,
infinite in the count and
flower of our
mandibles;
And yet, none of us---
not a single one---
thought to step on the Ant.
Feb 1
Feb 1, 2026 at 12:45 AM UTC
Dying first in a brief world means nothing.
Pain
disproves
brevity, drinking
in the dark
saves
your brother.
Brothers.
Where were you when you didn’t like me
(The angels and their weird practice children)
(A game of memory,
but it’s just the face of god) Find someone
who’ll eat
with you
the terror
Jan 19
Jan 19, 2026 at 10:41 PM UTC
Interred in gelatin,
calloused matches
for bones,
this heat
on the pimpled
valleys of a throat,
a total complexity,
rolling linty in the
jean-pocket of
St. Augustine;
Human cube,
err in the dark,
Thou, eternal object.
Dec 2, 2025
Dec 2, 2025 at 4:20 AM UTC
or
or solid couch
or
or firestorm
or
or jawless sin?
or
or O , mother
or
or O, citadel exhuming
or
or breath
or
or Edith looked
or not
or a star of a lot
or allotted unto death
or salt
I
I
I
Nov 12, 2025
Nov 12, 2025 at 1:38 AM UTC