Thursday, June 24, 2010


A solid afternoon.

White aqua crimson

prop. A dead sky, but –

full of starfruit



infinite salt.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

80 Poems in 80 Days: 10


The current that makes the ocean
makes the marrow of my bones
makes my eyes slate with
anger blue with mystery
green with shock or inspiration
or confused with love
or dull silver with the sound
of voices of the choir
pushing against fluid
temples, pulling up
the liquid nails.
If I unlock
my sequined wrists
it is not a bargain
or a cry for help
it is just an end
like and unlike
many others
just a bag of bones
and ocean returning
to balance the tides.

80 Poems in 80 Days: 9

A Lens and no Curve

Paper cutouts against
a man's umbrella
fluorescent against the
musk of night
and dull to the heart.
Give me the ribbon
I have come for
and I will fish from
your eyes sentiment
and leave reason
to do its hard

80 Poems in 80 Days: 8

A sunflower yellow and glimmering
whirling flamenco dancer
tongue on a lemon field with melted butter
cobblestone and childhood
creeping crawling from inside
the light.

80 Poems in 80 Days: 7

After Reading Tender Buttons

After all the rest of the chairs are established
and she has digested language like
sugar cane, I have so little left to
break, and throw against the wall --
and so I gather what I have left
with my ears and it plays --
a broken cadence
a vulgar waltz.

80 Poems in 80 Days: 6


And we don't dress up anymore
in tulle skirts with lavender bodices
but we still try to please
the maestro
and drip with tears
like sweat
for our unborn.

80 Poems in 80 Days: 5

One Lighthouse

One Lighthouse for the children's ward
One Lighthouse for the for the woman under the hospital
One Lighthouse for the helicopters, marines, doctors
One Lighthouse is all we need
for the cracked skull of the city
On the cloudless horizon