“and so we gather or are gathered someone else’s memory glow – a breath – is that all there is to connect”

image credit: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:NYCS_ManhattanBridge_NorthSideTracks.jpg

I have two new poems up at Isacoustic. Everything is too much right now; and i am so grateful for poetry, which allows for close study of the replete, brimming intensity of life.

her story is my story is your story

Purple_rock_crabs_(Leptograpsus_variegatus)_lurking_in_a_crevice_under_Lion_RockMy poem, her story is your story is my story, was featured today on SWWIM

“…when criminal justice is criminal warfare and we are all under this rock heaving against it with our might intact…”

13/30: Celestite




The veinous interval

Sun splits the trees

The air becomes celestite

We are solvent


What now to do

but cook these skins

We won’t need them where we’re going



12/30: folly & carburetor


folly & carburetor


rap dogs of the sidewalk refrigerator

squeeze my carburetor

tire screech

ocean of car language

little voices from the hum

Saturday whining street music

we roll with it

a beam of folly and decay

skeletal longing

where are the roaring mouths & little feet

the spell of a dandelion whistling

rustle and rumble

each of us caught up

a splatter of constellations



10/30: sediment


the bottom sediments

if you let it

a whirlpool the normal tension

are we not living cells?

all the wild cultivars

and their babies

in a crystal sky-city

a whorl, a pith

a solitary action

We emancipate



9/30: the woods found within this body*


“the woods found within this body”

-from Half of What They Carried Flew Away,

 Andrea Rexilius*


my trust issues a clog

in my heart spell

small blisters


rainbow cuts

in the landscape


my leg undergrowths

spirochetes & chasms

having irregular hairs


in between breasts

my thunder belly



mortar, then –

the sticking nest of

desire for something


else not a marriage

not a lichen

though we did walk in

those woods

together for a time


All light melted

I was magma

Damaged tissue




8/30: rose quartz

rose quartz


Aureole threshold

is totem

Three rosy smooth stones


Fibrous & generally stable in ultraviolet light

One is found or one finds oneself


Irradiation forms dusky hues

Rock crystal asterism

My terminal bud


In each hardness a prism or vein

A loathsome pustule

A bubblegum center


A dichroic future of bilateral symmetries

Our stars pulsing under the skin



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