Article Category: Poetry


is the reason— lungs swelled to beasts,   legs to the grave, the joy of nothing happening—I,   strawberries & cream still cold under arm,   flick ashes to eagles whilst waiting for Hassle—   the name we assign our new bus/driver.… Read More “THINGS (BAGAGE)”


When               you tell me no,                   you are beautiful when               you show me yes—               the x pinks of                     your pain,                    I part                  your                 home like                  crab,                suck the secrets                    blind like choice                         meat meant               for hoar- smoke coming home in the rain.                                 … Read More “TWILIGHT OF BEOWOLF”


Det er sommer og indeni den ligger en anden sommer: en sommer der fortsætter den korte sommer der blev kort fordi noget usommerligt afskar den fra at være sommer, fra at være en årstid, fra overhovedet at være en tid, men nu er det sommer: den anden sommer, den fortsatte bevægelse; en æske åbnes og sekunderne får en chance til.… Read More “Pandora”


After a day spent attempting to impress those good-looking girls who were not impressed I would retreat into the company of boys and drink, and on one such night, sitting on a friend’s bed blowing smoke at giant moths driven mad with the light, I gulped down a pint of cognac, and by the fourth or fifth time that I fell off my bike in the dark, I truly believed that I had, at last, grasped the meaning of the word sublimation.


Early enough to hear the light whispering like a lover to the dawn I cross the street, evading Messalina’s grip, and find the pavement is already sick with pigeons, going at each other over scraps of bread scattered at the feet of Christ (possibly) who looks as though he hasn’t slept since all that Gethsemane business.… Read More “Commute”

Millipede from Mars

After the dinosaurs lay down in their fossil beds and the ice ages shift from Pleistocene to Holocene, some eleven thousand years of weather ago, there walks into my apartment this millipede, no doubt as a result of the wettest month of May on recent record, Lakeland and Venice both reporting.… Read More “Millipede from Mars”


[  because you know                 ] [  this is too beautiful               ] [  to try                                        ]

Look Up Curtis!

This strip of Friday night nowhere pulses for our baby blue Saturn CD skipping the third-measure bump, jump, falsetto cracks and we taste it in our jaws riding white and talking that shit like we run the pool hall with one leg like Kirby limping and shucking on smooth southpaw licks, watching VHS tapes from the backs of magazines with Grier and Roundtree and playing like we black cause we don’t know what that means just yet and now the lights are falling in Flatbush and all of us and Brooklyn are paralyzed.… Read More “Look Up Curtis!”


“Stacks upon stacks of warm bureaucrats, Counting whatever is brought before them: A universe of vaguely separate Objects in need of sorting.” The poet says out loud, sweating.… Read More “Stacks”


  Another watch this one evening to past three am so darkness mostly, distant refineries flare.… Read More “NIGHT WATCH OFFSHORE”


  Time circling (scurrying) for one of these towns  with low hanging green clouds for a sea wall.… Read More “WHAT A YEAR AGO WAS THE WISH OF SCI-FI”


Another version of me you want         me to come there so we can drink sugar in our milk before going to bed.… Read More “GCITY”


[24001 – 25000] Cycling the rutted Yangtze, Saint-Pierre of the tinfoil sauerkraut is flung against a low-pitched abutment, carapace un- damaged.… Read More “AT THE MUSARIUM (44)”

beyond and across

almond hair.… Read More “beyond and across”


– value is not a        number or a stock market value is a body a mess.… Read More “MARKET IS MISERY”

GOD DG ODG O GOD: what is god

sky softly closely/ closer than close/ warped and pure/not like you’ve had before/homebound onion soup/8+ simmer/steamed face/a family/ vegetal belonging/the other side of fear /let          go/the quality of being with/not the sex but the rattling underneath/eye contact with yourself/the transfused water/the basement to your cum/necessary wilt/the moment you get yourself back tiny non-linear vein-diagram tiny tiny gender tiny tiger balm tiny yes tiny until tiny calls u by ur real name tiny until not tiny until everything tiny is a tiny pore punched in a sunset whatver language taught you to breathe again

peace is

transversal masturbating, wound as lube lathered topical saturdays taken off to fuck the parts of me i hate.… Read More “peace is”


i remember trailing behind you on bike rides follow following the calendar of your neck the cadence the carabiner the culotte the keys hang from you like loose grapes and the sun shone through your two thighs and i let you lead maybe just to watch the medicine slide down you and transmogrify god and my heart used to blow open after you sang and pointed the rabbit shadow shape in the moon and we scissored in a golf course west of the city and you said my name like my mother did like the one who first pushed me now i use my air to hold in case i see you and your name was my favourite prayer that eventually became a bog that eventually became its own body i had to carry around and feed and i got a grief tattoo on my bicep last week and cried the whole time because you danced danced you danced in me with every poke you swept my clavicle with a glossary of what we aren't and i saw you wishing me well and its true you are body i carry loose grape blow west bog hang hole rabbit dance bicep medicine that i carry around now and it’s true your name was my favourite loss

broadcast news’ vomitus coverage of broadcast news

They cast the first stone chop it up and snort it Give me a feeding tube Fill it with disappointment I will miss me most of all Old bearded fender Thinking is never enough My motives are more important than your motives The other candidates say I am fine My blood is green, what does that mean?… Read More “broadcast news’ vomitus coverage of broadcast news”

Grand Canyon’s 3rd Visitor Death in 8 Days

Trying to fill in the holes with meaningless things   Flapping to regain control of what will not hold And on the 8th day god said, “Sure, why not?” And you plunge on, not to rise, but settle in To a bleat you will never fully bloom And your plumage will be one for the history books They never write or never hear of you again The earth needn’t do anything for us to die by its hand

Write Ugly

Untie, Chuck Molten, the sailor’s knots Of your thick hands and—from the pocket Of your lemon-yellow ski-jacket—throw Out again the wrinkled dollar bills to pay For coffee in Fresno’s Olive Tower Café Some lost day in the 1980’s of my youth.… Read More “Write Ugly”


The coach sent me behind home plate, Had me crouch and catch for his son All through the warm-up before each game.… Read More “Catching”

Blasé Nestlings

That nidus, that beak-woven bowl, built quickly of gathered twigs braided snugly under and over rhododendron branches, looking to all like hundreds of dove claws gripping each other tightly…and brown.… Read More “Blasé Nestlings”