Words

Americans are returning to their rituals

0
pack your emergency go-bags, fireand flood are riding the waveof optimism don’t forget the iodine! Anne Waldmansays, we’re taking off our sweatersAndrew Schelling says—the poetsundressing, the climate...

Yours for the Taking

0
I keep myself busy long enough to not remember the time. I keep track of minutes best in the mountainsfeeling them passing like a rhythm...

Self-Deceit #3

0
I know that room inside youwhere you go to hide when you’re scared and don’t want to be seen. Where your back is turned away, eyes lowered if they’re...

Obelisks in the Desert

0
Melted moon-wax dripping outover the leave-less trees tonightcharming me with such good tastelanguidly stitching together the patchwork The textures weren’t half so brightwhen they ensconced...

Postscript

0
Covid – year two. I no longer live within myformer parameters.Sleep comes in waves per night as does dream. Some days the sun sings I’m...

Get it Together

0
Just there after, the lights dim down to a nearly indiscriminate fade.The hush falls on the crowd like a falling line of dominos.It’s the...

Dada Def Poems

0
What is a Nihilist An ink blot and a reminder levied on ships that anchor in a port. A trial condemningthe leader of a dramatic chorus. It...

In Grief, Take As Long a Road As You Need

0
In grief:Take as longa roadas you need,mingling withheartbreakingholy darknessgiving spaceto each chasmcalling for tending. When emerging,coming up for breathhold firm in keepinglightalive and well,find ways...

Things change

0
Things change, always. You wrote this in my yearbook. I stumbled upon it last week. In the heart of the fire is a cheap...

The Studio

0
My mind is unwritten musicAnd a million notes played at once:A blank stave overflowing.And in this chaotic emptinessLies the melody that seeks to be...

A Spate of Poets

0
They’re everywhere – !behind bushes, on benches,under bridges, in the hedges,eyes shiningtoo much.    I’ll be the log   in your fire place.   Let our nostalgia  ...

in the light

0
Waking up each morning Pieces of my skin stick to my sheets Flesh unbound, pulling away A viscous, visceral stretch in the direction of my movement, a line...