Somewhere past the planted pines and under the veil of quilted sheets. There lies a riverbed. I am buried there. Along with my pots and pans and scattered bits of bead. With the roly-polies and arrowheads. Deeper than the limestone caves and round like the wind. Don’t tell me we are not our memories. We … Continue reading Ancestors

Acadia, Nocturnal

The fog is shrouding tamarack and a flawless black sky as frogs trill from turbid pond water, but she doesn’t know.   She emerges from our room only to eat and ask whether Andromeda chose to show over Cadillac Mountain or if Venus sailed down the Penobscot out into the Atlantic. I avert my eyes … Continue reading Acadia, Nocturnal

The Particulars of Theredness 

Outside I watch a waitress through the diner of windows she’s in yellow in the middle of the night   Debacled in sameness,                                  placed                   particulars Serve platters of tuna on rye … Continue reading The Particulars of Theredness 

[Un]Defined, [Un]Labeled

Red nails, plush lips, long skirt wrapping wide hips, 42D, 5-foot inch 3. Unquestioned, your man is me.   With him, a man, as our lips softly meet. With her, a woman, as our hips touch and our tongues greet.   I wish for your firm lips and warm body, but your bed is left … Continue reading [Un]Defined, [Un]Labeled


People look most peaceful when they eat, shit, fuck, kill the need to answer their alarm clocks in the morning, flay themselves of their suits— the artificial hides of the bull market—on the coat racks of meat lockers to linger in their earth-given nudity, and still, people look most peaceful when they drink, piss, bleed, … Continue reading Animalistic

Grandma Allen

Her arms were supple and reminded me of the soft bread dough I pinched as it swelled   in her kitchen. She pressed butter-covered marshmallows and rice into teddy bear molds I can   still taste, and nothing now compares. Colorful jars adorned her kitchen countertop, bottled pears   of pink, of green, of blue. … Continue reading Grandma Allen


*Series of haiku A tribute to the soldier buried at Camp Floyd Cemetery, Fairfield, Ut vertical white stone a shield deeply indented curving words imply loneliness glimmers forgot in winter’s frost, cold like steel, alone, lost light cracks across grass, day breaks like brittle bones, heat burns in mourning sun warmth caresses rock moisture thaws … Continue reading Unknown


there’s a guy that sits at the intersection   of MacArthur and Fairmont in a black leather   jacket and black leather hat, never smiles   until one day I’m holding a Fleetwood Mac   record in my hands and he stands up   off his crate and yells “Fleetwood Mac is the shit!”   … Continue reading (Ass)=U+Me


I. what does this mean: that this destruction will be radical? what does it mean, when the idea of a gesture, like a single hair fallen from the head, becomes the field of a problem? this impression of being seen: the center of the spider work of facts. II. but the fact is: your breasts … Continue reading INTENT

Daybreak After Nightfall

When noble dawn arrives After a lecher of a night— A night that feels Like the millionth coat of paint On a wall that never existed— It seems the weight of one more day (For what is a day but a shade, A kind of color that bleeds into the last and the next) Might, … Continue reading Daybreak After Nightfall