• Hungover (I Seem To Remember)

    We were very weary, and not very wary—
    We'd been harassed all night by a cop named Larry.
    The streets were dark and dank; we felt unstable—
    We began stumbling home to watch roller derby on cable.... more »

  • I Am Afraid Of Churches

    I read the bible for the poetry and for
    the love, or at least I did before
    I became afraid of churches.
    My fear of them stems... more »

  • I Am Not Pretty And I Do Not Understand Why

    i have this new love, named Haemon.
    he calls me Darling and holds me
    closely as if i am his dear Life herself.
    we met at a masquerade. while he... more »

  • I Want To Paint

    I want my soul to sing
    Like its been bursting too; I want to display passion
    With a pulsing red, and color it with conflict
    By adding a jolt of lurid green.... more »

  • I Will Be A Story

    I.
    the day began as a mirage.
    dressed in the garb of a wise king,
    i dab frankincense on my wrists... more »

  • I Wrote Of Horses

    and the smell of grain, a full-bodied musk
    dull as sweaty leather saddles
    but tantalizing as the taste of grass, fresh and
    sharply saccharine.... more »

  • Imperfect Idols

    All I ask
    is that a little
    humanity
    be available... more »

  • Insomnia

    Walking, awake, I dream of burning books—
    razing all records, shredding my stories—
    of being lost in a lustrous orange,
    freely isolate, speechless and drifting.... more »

  • Is Am Not I

    (I withdraw so I can pretend)

    the world is spinning
    and of all of us in it... more »

  • Jane Draws Herself

    ... more »

  • Kinetics Of Self

    this month I began a new cycle
    of creation-resignation-perpetuation.
    who am I, and who are you?
    if only I knew, if only I knew:... more »

  • Landmark

    Faded, beaten blue,
    You’ve had your share of bruises
    And broken limbs.
    Once lustrous hair falls to the ground,... more »

  • Last Night

    I dreamt of standing
    on a balcony, watching
    myself jump, and then...... more »

  • Liberal Arts

    outside my window
    around an accordion,
    carousers frolic.... more »

  • Low Sunday

    There is a bell tower in France
    which seems to shift as much as I do.
    In supine whirls of wet on wet, it blurs
    heavy, half-formed pirouettes... more »

  • Making Arrangments

    Life is art. I’ve seen lots of ugly art. Art which sole purpose is to be ugly,
    to make a statement about ugliness.

    My art doesn’t know itself.... more »

  • Maybe I Miss You

    I think this as I step
    out of the downpour into my body, a trough
    where this yearning collects and solidifies
    into something like a plea, an Eloi, Eloi stuck... more »

  • Meditation On Violence

    Separation, silence,
    when did these become sacred?
    I think of paradox
    and poetry—... more »

  • Momentum

    green and free and not like me
    but just like me, thoughtful, felt,
    absent of bursting beauty, turquoise-tinged
    inertia, all qualities of anger, ambiguity, ugliness,... more »

  • My Sister As Myself

    I.
    returning to my first home, it smells
    like transcendentalism and THC, as if
    the smeared memory of his green canvas coat... more »

  • October

    All I am is in
    & all the ins are out.

    The annual dispunct:... more »

  • Ode To Job

    Everyone can rhyme, but who has the time
    to spend their days grumbling about the sublime?

    Who cares to be querulous, who wants to be serious?... more »

  • Of A Forgotten Life

    white walls in solitary halls utensils
    clang doors bang open faraway
    voices blank tiles whisper blame... more »

  • Of My Ego

    I could ask what it means to be clean, to scrub and scrub
    and scrub and scrub and scrub and fall asleep scrubbing.

    I smell of machines, of wet droning plastic: staid... more »

  • On The Evolution Of Communication:

    ... more »