I could sleep now in this raft of a bed, or later, or eat an unreasonable dinner, or make something sensible, or wait, getting lost in a book, or a thought, or these small rooms, quieter in your abscence. Another city night, some man sings loudly into the velvety dusk, and it’s not clear whether the high rises are cast in cool blue hues due to this sky or to their glass or if such […]
Waking with a burning throat it’s the sun that changes not the haze a distinction worth making? Who knows. The sky bright opaque some big eye’s sclera and it doesnt blink
unvoiced words cast as shadows or wilting in the face of the predictable response or echoes of echoes and all this weary smoke settling over the city towers and spires the blood speck sun thirst is nameable but this is not . the cloud distinctly a face suspended over the far valley blowing out a bellicose wind and from the summit we watched smoke churning up like smoke there’s nothing else so plain-spoken yet indirect […]
a thirst and that way weariness rests just outside the eyes- another rainless day sun on green glass oh the height of it all a seagull seems to fly low here the trees seem out of place set pieces this room is mostly window and open space but some things you just can’t fake this song progresses through common chords characterize everything as a wait it sure doesn’t feel like arrival nobody’s fault but mine […]
almost calm this not yet night a house it settles but a city it calls and calls like some stray cat enamored by want and measuring out the confines of its alleys
Full moon, too high to see through the window pane it does not seem like the human world light pushes us out and occupies the space there is displacement skyscrapers growing more precise by night a thousand perfect golden squares and all of them empty
Again, short days. What else is there to say? Besides all the things a night can be: Clarity of skyline, articulate distance. I love the red of WONDER BREAD, of CITY LIGHT, old neon signs, all heart. It’s no good here in the thick of it, LED bright and still the ankle twists to the gutter. A huddle passes, soft people, shapes only, the very power of suggestion. And then the street empties out, except […]
An expanse of hours an evening stretching open like a mouth cool breath no, cold . Watching the gulls amid the old hotels and new, so obviously not homes . Anywhere just anywhere else but here
[1] New construction, half this city is empty, prematurely gutted. Dark blocks, wide swaths of light and the knife-edge of a night, designed for carving. Such an uncomfortable clarity that comes at these hours, hurtling blindly at a great rate of speed, every second falling free from the world until the earth rolls up again to meet our feet .
A hill under rain. Today no seagulls wheel and whistle like scratched glass above a half-filled lot. Which isn’t to say silence, no, this city expands like vapor to fill a space, yellow cranes like stork legs, that idea of nascence– which doesn’t actually countermand death– a square of sky where a building once stood, rubble-dust dampened by another sudden shower. A hill from trees, and land from sea, just like the weather, living here, […]
OPTIONAL POETRY 