7/30: In the Staff Break Room a Lone Foil Star Dances


In the Staff Break Room a Lone Foil Star Dances


There is no wind

no tremble

I sit here reeling

from life’s rapidity –

the days melt in a flurry

of job & family & email &

sex & tasks

how caught i am in this maelstrom 

as if to stay alive

This ocean

This paroxysm

of waves breaking

How we wash

over each other

is enough



6/30: synthetic skins


synthetic skins


dolphin embryo digitized forestry

reproductive animation

identifying calls & bone

teeth, roots, jaw, skull


This is the mouth under my body plan

This is the muscle of the water


digital animal sounds

television of the interior

pixelated whistling for blood

a pathology, a tincture


oh digitized meat war

we’re coming for you



4/30 calcite



in the cavities i’m colorless

hot like a rotting tooth

i become new forms

concretion among the fading druse

vitreous as cut glass

i effervesce

but how i fracture

is witness

to all that petrifying




3/30: chalcedony



the gentle subtlety of true light breaks

arrests then aggregates radiating

how the glow extends to us despite our faults


crystal life system your gap symmetry a balance of victories

moss agate, the nacreous imagine, stalactite, a petrified wood for lovers

how you hover as forms

in the interstices


warrior, queen

your magnanimity

a wonder seeking air



2/30: Aurostibite




i’m not radioactive

there’s a horizon over my grimace

lead grey no gammas protuberant teeth

the sonogram catches my gravity


diploidal i’m a star symbol a fracture among the shimmer

my crystal system two Ty fighters on the wind

a metallic streak


Au get off my diaphaneity

What I lack in sulfur I make up in cell dimension

666 – mark of the beast

Good luck finding my cleavage



1/30: rock beach


rock beach

we dig for ancestors

of, relating to, or tending those hard, dark rocks

opaque in their soliloquies always why me why me why

we coax time from their celestial bodies

our instruments gaining measure in the

massive bed of (p)latitudes




ditch poem #20

it was the wildness

everything was singing and

you tried to protect me

i resisted it was pitch

and forest it was the trenches

i washed my mud and

donned its mother i slept

among the trees my golden guilt

it was the wild nests of

Brooklyn summer it was the

Cyclone everything was grit

and sunshine a glitter

of dun sand. What is protection

he asked under the boardwalk

who rides the Wonder Wheel

i resisted it was milk

or the ditch

so i started digging.

Faerie Drill*


Each day must whimsy

A kindness, a cement truck

Calculus of the usual commute torture


Go under the microscope

Veins in the green over grey, grey over green, oops – the grey grey

The fairy fly terminate in hairlike fringe


Full body vibration as earth charged flesh with a zing zazz

Tectonic nerve tissue

Excavation of bones for romance


We held hands beneath the dirt

We wanted to be trees


*with thanks to Kevin for conjuring the concept of faerie drills