so where to
without you
where with
(October 14, 2016)
-
Solve
I stand perpendicularalong the earth’s curve,an edge of someoneelse’s horizon. My shadowthrown into the darkvanishes on a foreshortenedparabola like a coinflipped in casual disdaindown an iconic well.My metaphors perplex me,numberless word problemswithout a solution for x,and all my empty spacesfilled with other’s erasures.(October 14, 2016) -
the pattern I’ve become
The light turns,I shift, and changelanes, obliviousto what occurred:the grackles rosein mass like plumesof ash, only to settleback as a blanketshaken across a bed,a quick ruffle, then still.(October 14, 2016) -
where we fall
without warningor with onewhich onewould not noticewithout resortto metaphorwe translateourselves to an otheras if to createin a differencea differencewide enoughto know well enoughone from the other(October 13, 2016) -
interactions
by
out of sleep you hearmuffled and distantyour name and wishI was there as you wakepanicked and gasping for airout of memory and desireI describe from detailsnever quite extanta different storywhere we might liveout of necessitywe weave out patternswithout patternsas if hope were enoughto justify our faith(October 12, 2016) -
Floating World: Fifty-Six Years In
by
I worry the edges,run my hand along the walltrying to push through.I sleep; I’m awake.And too often now,there is no difference.Dusk and dawnflee each otherin a failure of translation.Predictably patterned,I talk, and plan,and pace about:a lost transcendence in searchof a permeable moment.(October 7, 2016) -
scanning library shelves
by
seeds of interestembedded withinthe words sprouttendrils in swirlsto push dull earthaside until lightdawns entireto bathe us allinto redemption(October 6, 2016) -
Myth of Progress
To end desire,there is nowhereto go but here:along cliff’s edge,never quite falling,always unbalanced.Pretence at decisionlimits rebellionto backyard bravado.In these placesof safer smilesand parlor wit,there is no escape,except to return.(October 6, 2016) -
Each Moment an Act of Violence
by
You move through mirrors;your reflections’ shards glistenred visions through your eyes.You parse bits of time, andthe air undulates in wavesshredding skin past bone.At aperture’s erasure,a facet forms as in a fly’seye’s shattered dreams,and you fall betweenfragments and trellisedroses’ sharper thorns:less who you were,until what you became.(October 4, 2016) -
Ten by Ten: Centum
such signs being small are palatablefrom one family member to the nextwhat I say can be determined with easemy accent falls between all dialectslike leaves whispering between the branchesof a translated Germanic sagaonce used on an entrance exam in Gaulas an example of how language groupsbond through pronunciations and dividealong the smallest of syllabic shifts(September 30, 2016) -
always on an edge of a fall
I have often been enchanted as I amstill along all of my edges as a lakeedges a forest along a distant ridgeof a green mountain range too largeto compass as I lean over an edgeof a cliff looking down into a valleyto a road I just drove along for milesin order to hike for hours and hoursso I could sit where I am in this momentand wander the world’s enchantment(September 29, 2016) -
Patience
by
A trail emerges and mergesalong sight lines grown dimthrough twilight and memory.Origins and destinations blur,as we coalesce from a foginto something we were not.A blossom folds back to itself,a brief fissure to revelation,even as the petals wait to fall.Silence waits, as well, in darkabstractions too simple to pausefor the next word to be spoken.We are there, neither before, nor after,silent, unbroken, still, on a path. -
learning to walk again
If I stumble let me fallI know not whereOr to what purposeI wentHold meWhen I arrive homeKnow me as meAwkward and in love again(September 27, 2016) -
entropy
“the predictability of drift”–Susan HoweHe senses her absence along edges,always out of reach like desire.He would be there, if she were there;this brings him a manner of comfort.Like the Christian God’s promise,this suffering life ends with life.Thus patience smothers the day’s hopebeneath a vouchsafed redemption:easier to turn back, to move inside,to hide each nonchalant cowardice.His answers fill with questions, as pitchersgive shape to the shapeless water.He watches her as she speaks to him,and wonders where he has gone.(September 26, 2016)
subtext 