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love of my life

September 30, 2026
maybe the second book  isn’t about the tree rot  formed into the virgin Mary shape people in town prayed to butthat it’s gone & though it feels recent isn’t  they uprooted it so long  ago there is grass where  it was already yellowing in miserable summer  but that’s okay it can still be about what my poems are always about one thing   taking the...

The Magic of Butterflies

September 30, 2026
Thanks to sleight of proboscis and abracadabra via ommatidia, I’m seeing a Monarch, re- appearing out of thin air, eating sweet ooze, daring  me to fathom the chutzpah of insects   levitating prismatic from aster to hollyhocks  to phlox and fluttering so incredibly close to flawless it’d be weird not to worship them daily until our respective deaths. If there’s anything   bigger...

thread

September 30, 2026
Block Poem I learned early that the secret is always turn left, every chance you get, and you’ll solve the labyrinth. There’s a minotaur, of course, but he’s mostly starved for texture, wants to pet your unraveled yarn more than rend your flesh. And that makes perfect sense. Fear is practically built into these walls,...

From cartoons for a poem “Among a bar cabal”

September 30, 2026
⛭ Among a bar cabal of aesthetes, one likens bodies in Gazan dirt to Michelangelo’s unfinished slaves. Another read that black holes were like blown glass, a bottle with an infinitely long neck and enormous if invisible belly. The interior is larger than the exterior. These beasts chiacchierando this way, while draining long stem glasses....

Breathing Room

September 30, 2026
Oxygen is a metaphor is an element of mystery: O, oh   dilating its two pupils. Please.  I’ve been practicing forgiveness, rehearsing it in my room.  It’s okay, I say, if it doesn’t really happen. It’s okay if I just chop up the bodies   in my head. I mean of my enemies. But it’s my head floating  in my head in a pool...

brother

September 2, 2026
brother, one day we’ll be stardust. for now let’s dance at the durbar.brother, come closer, i’m tired of your face crossed off by fence, this metal between us, bold like a headline, cold as a blizzard’s eye.o’ brother, may i let my honesty slip—? my arms miss the length of your neck. i ask the...

Winter: LIV

August 26, 2026
For the wedding guestsfor the tinfoil that glitters on neighbors’ apartment floors for the way cabbage so confidently sproutsabove the ox’s skull for the wind’s film reelthe piano’s accompaniment all winter I envy the moonlike I could pin the tail of the waves’ withdrawal there

Winter: LIII 

August 26, 2026
On the moon I walk among fallow pastures this concrete bunker’s a border   the longer I stay anywhere the more quickly my thoughts migrate  away from meat the empty ranch house   caution tape riots the dog tracks are wilder than dogs 

Winter: LI 

August 26, 2026
There is a Great Year, whose winter is a great flood and whose summer is a world conflagration. In these alternating periods the world is now going up in flames, now turning to water. —Heraclitus, On Nature  A yard like another year’s gardena plum tree like a plum tree, sparrows like flocks of leaves scattering as planes pass...

The Five Remembrances

August 26, 2026
about the last day the continents touched—and there wasa last day—or the last night a chunk of earth split off, became the moon —“Land Masses,” Jennifer Martelli (1962-2025) Amble in one direction—there’s no loop trail in these woods. Aging’s about bureaucracy, its tedium, and border crossings that close behind you, and the cusp of nothing:...

DESTROYING ANGEL (AMANITA VIROSA)

August 26, 2026
Often confused for meadowor horse or button. Sometimes confused by the veil concealingthe universe of my young self so a future can grow upto destroy it: the volva another name for ruins.Some call it a cycle of foresight or historic recurrence (thoughthe organed dome looks like foreskin to me).I call it my life insurance nightmare...

IT ONCE RAINED ON EARTH FOR A MILLION YEARS

August 24, 2026
The Carnian Pluvial Event 234–232 million years ago Without ceasing. Nothing to ease the water. We lived and died under dark clouds. Our hearts beat to the downpour. Species came and went, transformed in and out of being. There was a lingering of living things. I drowned. The worst happened and then happened again. We...