I understand my obsession
my senses are worn
my heart and mind
thinned by feeling and knowing
even with such exhaustion

to the core of me
I try to make words appear

that can somehow be a solace
for those who suffer

as flowers blossom in children’s eyes
lavishly as from soil

their spirits play in empty parks
the God of light delights in their joy

I suppose
a few kindnesses
is the least I can do

for Juliana Marins (June 21–24, 2025)

A nun levitated above her bed
Her face in rapture
While outside the window
An old man with walker
Fell face first into sidewalk
And was devoured by ants
And across the world
A young woman slipped into a volcano
And went to sleep
Remaining beautiful
In the fires of the earth
Above or below
The mystery remains
It is levitating even now

There’s no bottom to this marsh.
I’ve seen shadows of monster carp,
and swarms of giant catfish.

I’ve seen an eagle drown,
and water snakes swim
into the unknown.

Divers go down
and never come up.

Those who survive
say there is a darkness down there
that’s hypnotic—

a black diamond gleaming up,
like a lake in the marsh
with endless shores,
its own sky and clouds,
a sunrise from another world.

And how deep that lake goes—
nobody quite knows.
They call it a black diamond—
rarer still than any gem.

Take me to the water’s edge
and scatter my ashes there.
I’ll be part of Lake Erie happily,
laughing in its waves.

Take me to the water’s edge
and hold me above its light,
like my father held me as a child
and continues to in my memory.

The sun and water—one element
in the fabric of those first sensations.
Like being born out of eternity,
I was also drowned in eternity.

Scatter me kindly when I’m gone.
Drop me in Lake Erie’s waves,
release me into that material light—
I’d rather be home than away.

The path through the forest
winds in and around the trees,
circling into distance—
going everywhere and nowhere.

Trails veer into singing meadows,
and here and there
a footbridge spans burbling streams
where worries flow away.

A snail migration is its own duration,
a slow unfolding measured by itself.
And the forest snakes you see
conceal what they reveal at length—
like the indigo buntings
who lie to your eye.

You breathe something greater than air
amid all this flourishing.
It’s in the breath of the forest
to be dying into so much life.

Stay longer, and the shadows
gown you in regal attire.
Bees carry a crown to your head—
I am father of the forest.

How to get violence out of your head
with three easy breathing techniques,
how to lower your heart rate
by practising these gun-safety habits.
You can **** your anxiety,
bury your depression once and for all.
Anger-management: shoot whom you don’t like.
Muscle tension? Try rioting for exercise.
The herds will run straight off the cliff,
into oblivion.

Which is why we offer relaxation techniques
from one of our many violent criminals.
Guest lecture by Wim Hof, who can *******
with his Iceman ******* and genetic fat levels.
We understand you can’t love.
Private sessions with a guru sadist,
massage therapy by certified psychopaths.
We understand you can’t feel.
Psychotherapy and self-defence,
mass shooters, targeted attackers—
we can align your dominant eye.

Passing the limits of feeling at all,
you can go anywhere, without fear.

after Gil Scott-Heron

Living in the void, living in the gaps.
Dying in the void, dying in the gaps.
Rioting on the news, dying in the news.
Killing for the news, living through the news.
There are two ways to get where you’re going,
but you don’t have to take either.
You can be your own person.
You can’t be your own person.
Accept defeat, accept victory.
Straddle the gaps, don’t fall in.
Don’t let the sides choose you.
Don’t let them shoot you down.
Don’t carry their hatred in your heart.
You’re only dying in the gaps.
You’re only falling through the cracks.
Riots in the streets, war in the Middle East,
war in Ukraine, famine and the inhumane.
We’re living in the gaps, stranded in the gaps,
drowning in hatred and unhappiness.
Politicized puppets, lost in information gaps,
with inconclusive raps and toxic apps,
hating each other, deluding each other,
murdering one another, murdering our brothers.
You can’t hide in the gaps.
You can’t last in their death-traps.
We only just survive in the cracks.
We always get caught in their traps.
We are strategies on an economic map.
We are saps eating their scraps
that fall through the cracks
and drift down into the gaps.
We are races all in collapse,
pitted against each other in the gaps.
We’re falling into the gaps.
We breathe the bad air of their gaps.
We gasp for breath; we gasp for breath.