Now We Are Cold

Autumn, drying leaves, fallen apples rotting underfoot, sullen teens attending to bitter, underloved instructors. The horses at their paces, steamed breath pressed out from heated tunnels into colder air, like a dying dragon's last smoke flowing from within buried caverns. This bitter liver, swollen, the dull right ache. Lager and cider - wet blankets for … Continue reading Now We Are Cold


The Sixteenth

This kiss,this aching rod - ash turned and turned,wood piercing world: axis mundi, the stars spinning, damp cobwebs catchingreflected light, draped across torn skin -the blood which drips, the soil which fed, these buried lips, stirring,Pando shaking, aching, this stirring wood

Any Moment Now

Might be something by Eno, might be music, really waves drawing back along stones, the wet revealing unpolished fragments and razor clam shells exposed, slicing Jagged foot paths - curved, aimless, unEnglish-garden-style, the fog covering the means and ways, that cut and bruise, draw sacrificial blood with each step Lost, alone in weird thoughts, a … Continue reading Any Moment Now

The Eleventh

...morning, after morning,sun is burning, banished, clouded,cold in winter, ice wrapped round branches,shielded from spilling seed, numbed:the numbing of heat - kissing me like you mean it,when you don't - as frost lines our windows, drafts slip underfoot, bodies cooling, motion less certain, a faded blue eye, looking west across fallow fields,broken buildings.

the echoing shore

Then there will be a sound,the thunder across the water,the cracking of the ice,the cackle of the clairvoyant -the whistle in a dark alleyAnd the sudden stopof ticking clocksBunin’s rageat marital order,Nin’s heatalong a geographic border -But, where does it begin?Whose voice is that, callingout along the river?What footsteps drag and dredge,quiver and disorderordered stones … Continue reading the echoing shore


And in the darkness you found me -a tossed aside toy, dried tears and spit,the detritus of childhood smeared upon me. A ragged thing, bent into a corner -the attic's smell, old wood and faded memory,replacing cologne and the scent of bourbon. Lifted, turned, held up to dust-filled light -the dirty window bending beams,the heat … Continue reading toy