'My age, my beast!' - Osip Man… On the lips a taste of tolling we… The light drifts like dust over fa… We wear masks on our genitals You’ve heard of lighting cigarette…

Here at the height of the day nigh… The color of the sky is uncertain, The sky depending in which directi… One’s eye strains, each of its swa… Hue which dies too soon and which…

Poetry, you are an electric, a magic, field—like the space between a sleepwalker’s outheld ar…

Tying the pimp in dreams to a lamp… His tuxedo wet with wheedled kisse… I wake up sucking the footprints o… In jails that glitter like crash-d… A dog appears in call letters on m…

(Nonasyllabics) In retrospect the tragic nature of sea is a taste wept too daily, too depleted by freedom’s rupture; the eyes have other secrets to see

His task to watch an hourglass was… A ritual cleansing that leaves him… Though no purification’s new enoug… To nullify the need for such labor… Prior soon to repeat, platonic clo…

Bending over like this to get my h… Rummaging through the white trashc… Of the Patent Office I find a ki… Here in this warm-lit alley where… Even the rats too they know that n…

‘My age, my beast!’ - Osip Mandel… On the lips a taste of tolling we… The light drifts like dust over fa… We wear masks on our genitals You’ve heard of lighting cigarette…

Speak like a singularity, a lack residing deep inside every lock, j… past the point keys can jab: again… make safe-ensure your door’s core… for reckless access to that pure c…

The bouquet Bluebeard gave his first date reblooms Railroad trains drop off the bourgeois’ pointy head God’s hand descends into a glove held steady by the police At their reunion The Ne...

at the edge of the city in the garbagedump where the trucks never stop unloading a crazy congregation stumbles from trashmound to trashheap

Meadow of matchsticks, soon to be rekindled by Spring the incendiary. The exact flame of your blossoms will ignite the passions

Always your face like a space (Destination: beautiful) ship Empties its mote of closeup trace Down screens that blink blank blip Somewhere between countdown

Many decades after graduation the students sneak back onto the school-grounds at night and within the pane-lit windows catch me their teacher at the desk

I’m charmed yet chagrined by this… As when, after a riot, my city’s s… Boarded up, billboarded over, with… Similarly, swimmingly, I miss the… And my misunderstanding doesn’t st…