Dive into the archives.
- Lines of the City, Blurred
Tilted back and empty of war, I go about the business of my day
until, with cuffs rolled and a cigarette, the moon knocks on my door.
Suddenly upset and easily kindled, he moves toward me like a city
shadowed by a single cloud. Its jagged edges an eraser on the tip
of seven wooden pencils, rubbing out [...]
- The Smell of Pipe
thin curling along the length of split whiskey-leaves up and back again like the smoke it creates when cool and humid, it lingers, drawing Noah on the wall leaning over a stone for rest.the whale, bleeding, in my belly, begging since that day on the plane where, as it were, i had not had a [...]
- Here’s to Then
If it were a balcony. If it were early morning. I’d stuff the skillet full of eggs and cheese, and fry a song to accompany the birds there beneath the cedar tree, then rest on your breast until noon when I would walk over the green hill there where we would live. The one wrapped [...]
- The Braille of Nature
A lake grazed by swans loses no time. The wind curling the surface, at parts surrounding trees mirrored through the collars of it. Dressing it with pinstripes, the sun is the clock that hangs on this house. The moon, its chime; pronouncing a continual mystery.
