Again the night comes down from the eaves and trees, shadows filling up the scenery, the day done at once. The day came and went without any help from me, things ever as they are always. The sun swinging by without asking, the light comes and goes, leaves me to my notebooks and my catacombs. Around in sick circles I carry the ember, the torch...
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The moon reaches down
through the iron of
my roots, shining
soft amongst my crown of stars.
I cup my hands to drink my fill,
then I drink again,
we talk the days,
the nights we tell
our secrets and our spells.
Oh becoming One,
oh declaimed radiance
amorous upon the hunt
the heart takes wings
while the rest takes time.
I look up, eyes...
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The indulgent magic back about, the mystery running free, sink a stone behind the earth the shine that finds the moon. The book broken at the spine, the ash a second coming of the sin. The smoke and stones in equal numbers, the numbers plugging in, it is within the becoming. The story at its most, as we bathe in the ricochet of sun and...
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I walk upon my sacrifice
the body always stealing from the earth,
being spilling over the lip,
the chalice forever overflowing.
The blood turns brown
the green sock sticking to
the bled through gauze
gifted with the warning and
the wait, the heavy press,
pain singing along to
this stumbled dance,
this humbled glint of cognition,
the engine turning over in the dirt.
Ants seethe...
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I sit down at last to watch the sunset, but the sun is already long gone, covered by the clouds and smoke that thicken out sky. The sweet pang of the sacred west and my secret star unseen, my heart swells on the tall grays and deepening blues as it all goes on to black. The day burnt down to this, this motor shook stillness,...
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There isn’t much I’ll miss—
a few people, the mountains,
most dogs, all babies—
even the ones that can’t stop
crying on planes or at the movies,
the babies you should let me soothe
but you fear me, never knowing
what makes you fear me is
what makes babies cry,
your dissembling truths and
weaknesses you have mistaken
for your power. Anyway
it is too...
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This is the long haul, the fullness of the full moon, the unknown arc of the rest of a life. This is the flesh wounds, the slings and arrows, the dirge of dashed hopes. This is the moon pushing through the haze, long into its becoming, framed in your window finding you. It has been a long time since we were lovers, a long time...
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The darkness has set, firm and obdurate in the window. The blind dog snuffles around the room. My mother drags herself in her transport chair down the hallway, bumping and scooting her way into the bathroom. All the lights are off in the room where I sit, squandering my time on heavy thoughts and fantasy. The hour early, and it’s already too late. I am...
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It is as it is, this early autumn afternoon. This late day beset with blue skies, dead leaves, and fickle wind. The east is still bright as ever though the sun spills and levels, lighting the neighbor’s driveway and garage, pushing the tree shadows into traffic as they climb and rise. I smoke a cheap cigar, sitting uncomfortably in the place I settled. Sitting as...
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It is a simple spell—
fire to smoke, smoke to breath
breath to blood, blood to flesh—
so the flame is kept
so the branch is burning.
It is a common thread—
the wrong word is used or
the word is used wrong
it goes on and on so long
the word becomes right.
Comes a time the star is
your compass, your direction
the...
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