Poetry
(hospital vespers)
Doctors played your dosage like a card-trick, / scrabbled down the hallways yelling “Yahtzee!” / I brought books on Hopper, and the Arctic, / something called “The Politics of Lonely,” / a...
Winter Archive
Tonight, steel mesh of constellations and a die-cut moon. Flames in the northern sky / and sirens — another fire in an old hotel. Every hour on the hour you wake and listen /...
Spring Break
Spring break. Kids are on the loose in the mind and everywhere. / Down by the creek, they club the ice with thick branches, / pelt its surface with stones, crying “die,...
Calling from Beirut
There is no order and there is nothing we can hold onto that is called order. / Wires swoon from rooftop to pole, each house is captained by a pirate, and /...
The Triumph of Hugh Hefner
Hurtled his roadster straight through the great books / of his country, never once stopped for gas or swerved / to avoid a rabbit. Tore along the spines of Faulkner past /...
last ditch
and if i wasn’t moving, i was dead, dry fibres stretched down my throat / and all was green, tall, shuddering sawblade green manipulated / by a dilating scope. weather was suspended...
Potentially Inaccurate
Alike the stars that far do shine, / are shone to us with days still ravelled. / / We are not seen by our light, / but only that which travelled....
Single Pansy among Stones
Yellowest ear. Stepped on rather than around, and no sisters. Holy granite. Saladable? Perish that fancy. / / Trying so hard to be the sun it hurts. /
Translating Paul Celan
Nothing is as it seems, but buds on the trellis are the colour / of wine. Crocus bowls brim with fresh snow / / Not even the jay’s scream of I...