the phrase, the modern howl, is skeptical of its own existence like a landmine in a paper bag. seems to say, this mind isn’t what you think (and didn’t know it was until it was too late) a symbol on a ridge, for example, a footprint on an iron shore. the moon is on a [...]
a lotus drives a nail into a tree how rare, how empty a woman in a burgundy dress is the back of a cliff. her hands make knots in the rain, a slender coexistent rain, rain with distant (transient) birds a wave of atmospheric evergreens gleams across her face self-absorbed, by nature an unknown purpose [...]
a broad-limbed melancholy dude (bearded, carries a pocketknife) levitates thinks eternal thoughts indifferent to the fact that nothing’s happening a sunflower rises in an empty doorway the sea is disorganized the mermaid’s a false intention she’ll come over him in a tin cup indicating death a red insect on a hill flutters in a glass [...]
morning is seditious; the alphabet’s a void is nothing without the accomplice of my window where the air breaks into seasons, hour after hour the city grows younger. a portrait of strangers swooning over whiskey, revolutionizing poetry, invent music, transport themselves to a time that didn’t yet exist. themselves, invent the lore of cassette tapes, [...]
i’m tired of rethinking endings of loose ground and cut bridges Neverland, too if this is goodbye, then all the roses have legs anyway the soft shoulders that make ourselves strangers of faces higher than stone not homesick just a moon, dozing on a dashboard smiles, envisions unawareness the gravity of wildflowers bumblebees buzzing without [...]
It is my hope that you'll read this poem in many different ways: as a series of short poems, as one longer poem, or even out of order, if it suits you. I found as I was revising that many of these lines and stanzas seemed interchangeable. And I myself had a difficult time choosing [...]
this same boat speaking with no one driven by hooves of white air outward, is one of nature's most intense images, takes the expression of a body becomes movement becomes wave becomes a guileless flower of man I am spending the week in Seabrook Island, SC and was inspired to write this short poem as [...]
i. this life is ancient at a distance, it is dust the thirst for solitude the luxury of loving in tandem like the idea of a paper moth its image is bodiless, breaks flies into a ponderous, gray light ii. a soft landing under weight of wood and sky the air has grown short and [...]
i. my hand, open drawn on a broken shore the crack between words is palpable out there, silence is God memory, wind ii. a thought is unborn un-blooms like a flower beneath my skin it lacks color, vitality a poem full of fictitious names of leaf and sprig in every undiscoverable way some people want to change the world, you know others want to bury it still [...]
eye, hallow tree in the void, in the meek sunset void your peace is engineered— there, i said it, like surf on a radio & a poem with the knowledge to say so hollow-hallow tillow-tallow surf on a lyrical high-climbing shore peace by a tree, by the wide open elephant blue mating of highest wisdom [...]
