The one half-brick for the load-bearing column;
the trash-can lid for the perilous slalom;
Poems
The Sheltering Chthonic
Tickle the trickling, pickling rot
mindlessly; or else solder –with fodder– that clot
— or let bleed, and proceed to relieve the disease
by attention, so end the well-pensioned distention
you’ve cuddled with smuggled-in mud.
Memory in the Wake of the World’s Fracturing
Fault not Mnemosyne for being unreliable;
since the fissure opened she has been wandering on the outside Continue reading
Satisfaction Murders The Motility of Anger
Here in my chair, after a full night’s sleep,
eyes ranging ‘cross shelves of my library Continue reading
Order and Caprice
“The birds of the air,
and the fishes of the sea
are beneath the Lord’s care”
but I kill the ants
because it pleases me; Continue reading
