I imagine a room with many shelves,upon which, upon entering,I know are stacked the relics of a past.The orange juice of labor.The stories of a life.They are tidied upin little slate cubbies and labelledand sorted bywhat’s inside. In this room compiled pages cataloguethese objectscrossed in time. [enter...

If fingers could growa hollow ring, in which to feed the stuff of marks,this arm would be a swipe away from spinning the pulp of paperinto snippets fit for life.

Winter has revealed his form again,stripped of his mid-year garb. Men, with eyes chapped open in unexpected bluster, couch their bodies in cotton and wool. Colored dabs sprinkle a landscape bleak.Lily and rose, even lavender. Boys dipped in mittens from head to toegather beneath a cluster of old kings,...

There is silencefor a second onlyuntil the sound of tonguestickles the air,and bags crinkle and solespad the distant thud of a train,grounded. They sit.No concern for the breathable,simply centered on an object to unite them.No talk of action, or fruitof implied labora mother’s loveeven plastic. [A...

from sourceda plunge into the water-plasmaof heart and mind – the fingers goo and dipcold and warm and comfortable – One may reacha glowing breathingundulation centeredwithout formfrom which a soundbeyond the wail of mensprings forth where bodies of desiretake reason as their breathpanting...

Poems in pure formtransmit truthin fragments – the only way we are capable of knowing. I am a dichotomy, of truthI feel, yet place at a distance. I accept my body except my body which I denyin part, beinggenuine torment. Poetry’s mirror isreality, fluid in formbalanced on the poise of perception The...

The road ispressed upon by air tightWith life, budding forth in triplets. Beyond the heart, a rhythm punctuatesOur thoughts, leaving only timeTo rise above the tide, and gaspFor all these cells can carry. We sweep together in currents, unthinking,Shuffled weblessly. The river swallows and chokes Us...

Mr. Spider,It’s not my place toRe-decide the value of your life.You reach upon my desk and climb insidemy handy leather safe. The chase begins.A small defenseless preyYou subtly outmaneuver me.I nearly sliceYour whole in two with Paper thick as thin can be. A wind wipesYou to the ground, adieu.You...

Tiny leavesRippling downFluttered: my soul. I felt as though a tide were torn from me.Left to foment.A sheath lifted: my skin Black wings flit across the scene.I breath in wet swallowsAnd reach to pluck them: my bearings. As feathers whispered soft unto my toesI bowed and wondered at the shadow of...

Torrents tore the room apart,and gold glistened green.Our hearts seeped curiously,Our eyes wept dreams.The stars that night were wearied lambs a’ weaving, drifting through and out.