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Friday, April 28, 2017

August

a punched-out laborer drags
his steel toes and down-holed soles


August 2 o’clock he dreams
of an ostrich-assed dancer


with a three-olive grin,
and she buttons


his shirt to the scruff


***


at home, dozing in the maw
of a gapped-tooth puzzle, he suspects


that tonight he will make his
time-machine and hide it


from his wife, the future,
he can’t convince her


will be worth this wrench, this knob
twisting towards a glimpse


of bird-kin evolved—a distant granddaughter
curiously perched on the Gonnus Mons
she blinks away at a flickering blue dot
sings with a whistle, and boom


it’s gone,    
she moves on

Saturday, October 10, 2015

Dial It In

kneel at the stuttering place, weep and
you got no park and no MasterCard

this seriousness, a May plan
circuit board stepping roadtrip—a world


in that description American addiction,
nap hallucination, and such disorder

welcome seems weeks away
by island-inspired awake, explore

assume rank, explore
the soap, the anti-soap: Himalayan pink salt
and rain lily—squat and imagine

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

Hey appears in Astropoetica


My poem Hey appears in the final issue of Astropoetica.

Saturday, October 18, 2014

Ranged



she stood there, and there was no war between us
hundreds stood like her, for years

for a little drink, she stood above the toothless grin
of the wildfire line, the hollowed juniper

anticipating nothing in the yellowing distance
I couldn’t say whether we were opponents

she stood there, a hunt, like a smoldering bush,
assumes oppositional forces, strong cuts

unearthing the harvest, salt-hide, brine heart
her honest garment of ash and crosshairs

a wind swept through the canyon
a mediator of meat and museum

rumors of ceremony stretch
across the highline trail, reddening

for Autumn, rippled like a hidden pond
stirred by a velvet spike before the flash

blackening its ankle in the burn, the cutthroat
air betrays its warning, air once angry

who pushed flames through the herd, yawns
and sheds its skin, this is the thirsty hour

what is equalized is distance through briars
and bear grass, she stood there unaware

of the war between us, the minerals in our bones
prayed into the smoke, and then she fell

Tuesday, October 7, 2014

Selected for Participation



act, abandon your warm cotton
attack the reputable hour, diabetic

five a.m. alarm for a prick, the vibration
of a most recent meal debt, approach

curve scale, sugar, move: this
morning is not for nouns

guide—all the quiet you harbor
at this time, and somewhere

in America Elton John is playing
radio is a substance, a lethargic dust

a type 2-step waltz glycemic; competitive
name the song and it’s there

birthing insulin, stretching a million
frequencies, an emergent weight

descending ballerina, you must
have seen her dancing in the sand

burn the heart caloric, and now she's in me,
rearview mirror shake, a single ingredient

always with me, tiny dancer metabolism 
salted, breathing heavy in the mist

__________________________________

Friday, October 3, 2014

Burial Life Insurance as Little as .25 a Day



generally, through black
and isn’t the surrounding personal

is it rude to speak of blossoms, now, as if
foods change love       so often dreaming of elevation

the force is best that forces an appreciation of fruit
cool, grape animals, a morning recreation
a rectangle in satin silence

finances are no mountain any more
any dog can bark a message
music, a perfect scenery
no blog about it

no heart for climbing
the end is fruit

budgets want an elegant statue, portraits, day and
chime, all that religion
at the last moment

we dead are the growers         from previous time
forcing some tradition             breathtaking

landform, famous but for terrain
more end
less spring

fantastic earth            
celebrate on the fat
background river mountain hospitable

more produce than clockwork, opening
to $0.00 air, where there's a didn’t of flowers

you-shouldn't-have flowers sleeping on, 
            with winemaker worshipers of this
                      early valley dirt and permanence
 for wooden climate   

love food, go change
fruit forces produce
day plants and elevated—all

for the silence of a quarter
on a Friday well spent

Wednesday, October 1, 2014

Namtar and the 60 Demons



From this moment, a cumulus spray
dissects the air. Grandmothers weep

into their sleeves. And so it is.
The tale of common water and sky

bathed in droplets, wedged in rat-coiled waste
along the carnival curbs.  The firefighters made

rainbows for children while hot navies anchored
their ships in their young lungs.  This day

outnumbered our creators. This day a cough
or a snot of disbelief splintered.  Shrapnel

liquidated our map-dot borders.  Through the face.
In a pinch.  By possession.  Beyond incineration.

Ring the bell, feel the bank blow open
its vault of violence in a sneeze.
   
This diffusion strokes our serpents, breaks our bricks,
Brings our antibodies to their knees.