Logistical Fantasy (Jan 2020)
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Fresh hold
they look
to own
to bend at hip
lust
treads
invisible
the other may
not account
for the
casual placement
of commonplace
fears
unreasonably safe
recall that
I need
not wed myself
to form nor
flavor

I count Until Five O’clock (Jan 2020)
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Spider mite break spider might-
-announce itself alive to sisters.
All is more than holy
projected in a forward squirm.
Anxiety protects.
On sunken hill
I abreast
of pity
holy rests
on sunken hill
honor bound
you are
to bed and pillow
waking sight w/ symphony.
As skinny booted-
-men deliver themselves
as journey
(and worth traveling)
I vow never to be
near the road.

The Presorted Elegance of A Stone (2019)
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Red weights haunt the Audubon society
blurring the patterns on her bed
his sheets float down to meet the morning

Steering her neti can
rolling it’s windows to embattle her nostril clogs
dripping them out to join the eastern winds

Competing for the interests of others
debuting the concept of health as religion
he pampers all within the dark
A true joy to behold
seeing as his is belief is
that transcendence is flexible
and that one should keep a heady
relationship with toxins
As I caught a leafhopper
he drones on regarding the continuing
death of the marriage ritual
and the invention of the bra

Apart from her apartment
her bundles charged with leaflets caught
during a desperate changing of pace
Waiting for signs to reform in hot air
he takes time out of his delinquent research
to prepose a kiss
thus leading her to flee quickly
but his statements expand to discredit her
standing in as a pallbearer for a myth
on freedom

A vet makes a prediction
waving his hands in partnership with his
silent lips to pantomime something terminal

She sent me a stone that glued happy to my spit and shine
I always objected in a way
that prevented me from raising our neglections
falling from our romance in the rain


Really, When Will It Be A New Year (Dec 2019)
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Snuck around the basement again
pretending to be close to you
tight-pangs-of-warmth
I argue with myself about my seasonable morality
while pushing dusted gravel into piles on the floor

Especially Macaws (2018?)
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Wearing only boxers and a pair of rubber boots
I inspect the underside of a plastic slide
the rain spills down around me
I try to deduce why parrots make me cry