Al pastor with big hunks of piña, a raucous song coming from a band of young drunks, is it Roma, Condesa? These streets run around and around like a race track. Cerveza at altitude. Joven, cinco más por favor, con todo. What warmth and light at this hour of night. And absolutely nothing at right angles, walls coming out like full bellies, pavement in riot, this city sinking down into the prior. Poco que sé. […]
Summer went out like a light, extinguished. Rain now pools on the roof, sounds of passive movement, the day cedes more willingly. Water splashes up beneath a passing car, yes, this city is more beautiful when damp, saturated, it carries more weight, occupies more space. Yes I booked the flights. What hell to wait, sometimes, to inhabit every hour, each a different room, interminable. Some hearts come more even-keeled, don’t yearn while floating through a […]
too tired to sleep a small gold moth darts in the dark like doubt or a heartbeat the night puts an edge on memories no answer, no answer, those were answers enough
Untethering in stages– the front door closed the train from work mechanical issues a gate change, delayed, the salmon sky turned black now, it’s beginning to feel late, but when did I leave, or have I left yet? Also a gradient, shades of leaving, and arriving, and still customs to clear when we get there, a man paces, a baby sleeps likes a baby in a collapsible stroller, stasis, the man curses under his breath, […]
Windows down driving over the lake the green scent of it languid humidity and the city lights gem-hued, strewn across sky and water, for seventy-thousand seven hundred and ten feet, some peace, spanning the gap, the longest floating bridge in the world, except for hope
This anger would be easier if I was a painter, could spill it out in cadmium red and yellow ochre, let layers build up– . This anger has texture, rough as a raised fist. In solidarity, or to land a blow? I don’t know, it chokes out eloquence. . How could such hate be lauded? Add some cheap gold foil to the composition, scattered senselessly. Rabidly. . A heart is a muscle, it can fail, […]
A magnitude of difference between true totality and ninety-eight percent. Even so, and for only ninety-three, we rushed out after rounds and off the floors and gathered on the roof in scrubs and scrub caps or business casual sharing cheap glasses and cardboard viewers and temporarily forgetting the code just moments earlier— occluded vessels, and an open chest. I didn’t hear them call it, had stared from the corridor at the vacant face, unsure, but […]
Not imperceptibly the days get shorter– slight variance, shade of dawn ochre, another day comes crashing in. I went to the counter-rally pretending to be a photographer, but when the ball blasts went off I just ran without thinking or taking any shots of the bodies hurtling toward me in a haze of chemical dispersal, covered ground without comprehension or feeling, only seconds later realizing what I had and had not done. The days accelerate– […]
That full moon like a brass button studding the night, implying perforation, adeherence, closure. In some places it was occluded, tarnished– but we couldn’t see it from where we sat, adrift in a deep night that fell like a curtain. For every word a third unspoken. That full, full moon and the Earth’s shadow encroaching. The very papable weight of nothing.
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
OPTIONAL POETRY 