Sadness is thick but more precisely it is dense. I do sense danger in the sea’s laughter, but also fairness. Why do I return to the indifference of the ocean? It gives as much as it gets, doesn’t boast of its limitlessness. You wrote a book of questions, but what of the ones you didn’t ask? I have a few I can’t even bring myself to speak, instead writing some lines like you, like this– […]
Breeze blew my papers down into the culvert, oh hell. My only defense against an early rattler is drunk bravado. Animals here have fur the color of dead grass, cloud or contrail– it’s motion that gives us all away.
A thin cloud drawn across the night sky a cloud not a jet trail not as precise above it the moon below it stars in some celestial equation so enamored am I with this idea of divination two of the stars are traveling in opposite directions jetliners both going and both leaving but I wasn’t looking for something so obvious so keen am I on division always wanting to know just how many times a […]
Biopsy: seeing life but not knowing, not without second sight— and inside of a dog, it’s too dark to read, half the joke, not as funny, and in the lobby on a pleasant wall I stare at the same agreeable painting for minutes at a time and never see it.
The road paved in ice and that damn owl playing hopscotch on the roof all night. The room too warm, the smell of snow came in a cracked window at three, such an unbecoming hour, and it seems there will never be enough– I mean, there isn’t a leap or reach that isn’t preface to a landing.
OPTIONAL POETRY 