Tonight walks the rainforest of you, and the ecologist’s English fails the imagination between what’s beginning, just, to sleep, and what’s waking. Some bird is almost a 7-inch country song of carbon repeating ‘til dawn, a turntable in the roots with the orange-kneed tarantula. Old nightmare cleared for palm oil, the clouds fall through a […]
Like flash bulb, maybe a firefly, she felt herself flare & then dim, & then waited for the surge of matter she had no means to measure in her gut. Glass ceiling but no visible stars, intimation of leaves. On the workbench, transfigured earth singing, &, though she can’t know this, singing in […]
Not cantata—sonata. Whatever they were, the first birds of spring, the doctor kneaded your breast counterclockwise. Discovering the mass, he needled a bit of blood & core, asked me to push Print— a sonogram I could imagine Beethoven, maddened by syphilis or […]
I. I am a teacher, with wires you can’t see but feel. You were all those things from before obstacles, pollution, and debris. In the pool we went at it. You got big and drunk and weird, corroded by my love. I knew by then my character was the teacher. […]
…If the world knew how the light bulb loved the socket then we would all be better off. –Matthew Dickman, "Love" − Or how the needle adores the vinyl right all up in its groove, how the laser's crazy for the spinning disc, and the guitar string pulls at the pinch of the pick. […]
Between certainties, or in the zip code of a wholly new misunderstanding, we fall to sleep. Channel swimmers grateful for the roughening cheek of sand. And wake to salted tongues as after a night’s long ebb tide of lust or fresh floral cut of sorrow. If I knew household harmonics did not require covert […]