Nov 25, 2022

Some new constellation, which encroaches on

Reason. Symbiosis with what was already You, in

A fragmented sort of way. Epiphanic, strange —

Like light from another room in another time,

Leaking in. No choosing of despair. No choosing

At all.



Sep 21, 2022

So it is with the frantic vanishing of things.

Late into the escapade you wondered why you felt this

Way and how. The trees and the deer outside were

Not listening. Dispelled myths and abjured dreams.

Constantly creating what you cannot understand.

Constantly motioning for signs of change.



Jul 30, 2022

You were walking backwards into the strength

Of somebody else’s poem, all while you were not looking.

The trees were the color of the houses, the houses

The color of the planets. Somebody was listening but you

Did not know who. The withdraw of first things meant the

Inrush of…



Jul 28, 2022

It was only in the frenzy of an unheard of

Night that I heard you singing the end of God’s life.

In the private language of hopelessness, all of us were

Equally blind, all of us possessive of the same lack

Of knowing. So I culled you, pulled you close.



Jul 26, 2022

Pieces of the hereafter drifted into view. You cut them up

Further, scattered them despairingly across the way. We

Felt there was no further answer — unable or unwilling to see.

The constellations looked like a storm and I was no closer

To them than I was when we began.



Jan 31, 2022

You were secretly enamored

With the split backbone of the sex and

Centuries and the love hereafter of feeling alive.

She brushed the clouds and the earth stopped its tumult.

I climbed a ladder to nowhere. And somehow,

Sorrow was not the experience of falling away. I knew what




Jan 11, 2022

Now there is never something that

You can never quite articulate that speaks

Up and down the ladder of vowels and vows

And moves you to assimilate yourself into

The scheme of personal survival. Dreams have

A spongey, almost benign quality. The New

Testament grammars are just as dark as…



Jan 6, 2022

Half of what I said was metaphor.

Quietness, the gift.

The heart asleep.

I drew a circle here: eyeless and strange.

I strapped you in. The moths

Around the house have been hovering —

And we were fearless enough to stay.

God wills us forward, but we are not moving.