at a remove, inglorious I live in the construct of your proclamations, in the watery shadows you fail to sharpen. You remain und...

I found the blue one on the bottom of the cage, dead in the way that only birds can be, a feathered husk. It weighed no more than the memory...

The bones of your dory rest under the pines. Untouched since last August, she gathers webs and shadows. She should be long done, painted,...

Oh, that I might be tidy, sky blanched, fields ribboned, trees skinned of bark. But all is a-jumble, tangled and on fire. Your fox-grin is ...

Morning breaks, cut-glass bright and rife with winter birds. I hear the stars shift just beneath the day’s blue façade, a whisper as silvery...

On reading poetry Master of pot lids- clatter, sing, and snivel. You think yourself bigger somehow when you stand on sheets of paper, arms s...

I would offer up the violet cords that twine my wrists, the knobby arc of my sleeping spine, the nakedness of my greed. Oh, pillow and moon,...

October is a door I am thrust through, a maw that gapes before me, all bittersweet and acorn shades. Some think it lovely, but I do not. I s...