Man, Love Maker

now, a man a single atom shaken in gloom invented in a garden worshipped in a parking lot made love with unpolished hands in a field of burnt orange poppies splits, decides makes wine dances with vengeance

The Cosmic Art of Naming

names know each other it’s a fact the difference between reality and meaninglessness has no name —that’s your big wheel road riot imperial high chariot if you look it up in your dictionary you’ll find a statement of what doesn’t exist: pulpit constellations and mud-gripped cellos self-seeking arrows the soft delirium of counting backwards from [...]

This Old Drag

i say there’s an  ocean  between holes in the  ocean and no one  believes me (just add a  tin can, it’s  heavier  than a cup of  coffee) i remember  one day  being born  as  the sun hissed  by my window the silence was rounder than a  peach not real silence  but a kind of torn [...]

The man is bliss.

a tall, thin-limbed fellow got a fork in his mouth in the instant, he’s mistaken for hungry “how you gonna let him dig when he ain’t got no bones?” because he can’t sing with a knife or a shovel look, it’s only his great wobbling jelly eyes, his fragile marrow nose that show us nothing [...]

Note to Lazarus

note to Lazarus:  at the moment i am voodoo bound with the  help of incense and a  man who crowned himself  Buddha by candlelight what a vision, what a night paranoia isn’t the problem but remembering to  breathe—no—remembering to  sing—like some kind of whiskey bird  or a high-pitched circus this idea—it won’t  respond forever like [...]

The Yellow Desert Poems

The Yellow Desert, paper collage, 2020 i. the notion of being civilized is  heightened by shadows an infinite crust of time a sense of music to hold onto at the center of  dawn, earth cries —is vibrant, mellow, happy we are the bystanders relics of liquid freedom ii. the mind breathes in  strange waves  dense  [...]

Forest Within

Big Dreams, paper collage, 2020 neither is real. the nectar or the god the eye that plunges us into the storm like  a bunch of savage, lonely children the truth is some miracles are dangerous the totalitarian revolutions of winter whispers and watercolors quaint maiden fields like a prayer for unjustified time or a mending [...]

The Crossing

someone lives here on the other side of the valley  longing for horses, interstates  silicone cathedrals  and other streams of lost sensation. in the mirror, real life seems  impossible. intense, erotic and  spiraling like a swollen river.  he peers out, another  object in a room, somewhere  in borrowed space, leaping and dancing with soft delight.  [...]