• a portobello ghoul

    a portobello ghoul

                The gills frighten me thin skin folds lined with a sliver of darkness that gnaws, draws out a fear so primal—            I scrape and shiver and wonder whose eye, whose             corpse am I about to eat—is it the horror of looking up the freshly turned ground and see its underside,…

  • Time slips

    Time slips

    like a black slimy creaturely thing, its tail end barely grasped before it slips into a still pool reflecting stars so sharp, it feels like judgment and when you dare look up they shriek in pin pricks with every roll of your eye, pressing down, bending your back till your head bows in prayer from…

  • stars like buttons

    stars like buttons

    to pick stars like buttons from skies to drop them in handfuls into my mouth like rice puffs           Counting stars? What ever for? I know where they must go Into my mouth           I must swallow them all, white dust grinding between teeth More More I need more

  • like trinkets in jars

    like trinkets in jars

    I spend my days excavating, extricating stars from books, bird beaks, veined leaf, and spider feet I smudge all the ink trappings and set them back, and finally, remember, the wordless wonder that compelled these hands to cup fireflies like trinkets in jars.

  • Must I

    Must I

    Must I rise, like the mountain clashing between forces, cresting and imposing—what if it is the sea that pulls me, ebbs and flows with too many peaks for any to be singly crowned? What if I were to simply house multitudes like scales glinting silver, purple, blue creating and recreated

  • to fly

    to fly

    As if I have never broken into. I exist merely in shadows and sensations A film, a membrane wrapped around me A hint of a figure or sunlight behind closed eyelids, red and unreachable, and limbs trapped in turbid waters; I shrink away from the cold air, where boundaries unbounded asks of me to fly

  • trapped

    trapped

    There are whole parts of me trapped in reality. Bits and pieces that’s been pressed into neat lines, between ruled pages—always what must be, never what could—                Each petal of possibility                                                            falling each drop of dew caught wasted away

  • untitled

    untitled

    You are beautiful. I feel naked I feel nakedthe lid’s been taken off the worms and maggots are out…and so I destroy you

  • and clouds streak!

    and clouds streak!

    The birds sing incessantly Now, now, now! and every stream of light sharpens, and the rabbit’s foot quickens—leaves tremble and clouds streak across blue—all shrieking—Now!                                                   But still                                            your steps                                                                             hesitate.

  • A note under my nail bed

    A note under my nail bed

    A note under my nail bed, words in soft pink— Eons I have labored each membrane thinned to perceive what is I and in eyes immensity unfolds and Time stretches no more