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 […]
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
a day of too many quiet rooms no balm for it words on a page too linear the page too square all coming back to right angles, edges, each a precipice– if potential was always positive a heart would not sink
A tenuous rain, or maybe it’s terse— nuance is giving me grief today. I feel empty, in both the sense of hollow and hungry— and contain enough hard reversals that I am as much a contronym as refrain, or apology— persistently ceasing, sorry I’m not sorry–
This another sort of entrapment– the weight of ought and should even now even here waking so late to a colorless sky and still-bare branches backlit and immobile I went to stake the peas with sticks to try to gather and balance things now well beyond reason now well past care even the hermit juncos stopping to observe my shoddy weaving– silence and mania in this setting of a rescinded spring of days that can’t […]
OPTIONAL POETRY 