Poetry
(loop)
believe it. Saturn, ringed for centuries by / her own shattered moon, nowhere she can look / / without seeing it. How often she tries / / to will off...
L’esprit de l’escalier
You think of it while, say, / lying in bed on a dry-mouthed Monday morning, / eyes open, quietly hoping for a kind death, / / the hour, the week, the...
What I know about her
She came to them eyes open, dark diamonds of curiosity / starred and blinking, you could believe she was an infant / coveted by other beings, those menacing imps, / pouring darkness...
The Waning Moon
Day 1. / / This morning three magpies float silently from the spruce trees by the graveyard. / Voiceless, they are ghosts of their summer selves drifting across the faded sky. /...
Innocence
The gnarled tree is a presence / Standing back from the tiled walkway / Between the sun-baked paving stones and the pool / / A loonie a bucket from a madcap...
Art Sometimes Makes Me Vague / L’art parfois me confond
Art Sometimes Makes Me Vague / / Some day we’ll live in the sky, Birdine. The big idea. / With wings. For now, and now is a...
Answers to Wittgenstein’s Seven Propositions
What is the case? / Small infractions. Bent brier, turned leaf: / integers opening the whole / a trail through the bushes. / / What are the atomic facts? / The...
Less
It’s a morning of razor-cut tissue wrap over the ridges. It’s breakfast by touch, molar-pinching coffee. It’s hot water enough to shave one leg. It’s drizzle,the bullock-brow dawn, stray razor bristles and...
Frigidarium
Navy blue in the hall. / Five and five doors / and blue navy rising, / rising under the underslots. / Five and five doors to ten rooms, / each with a...