Never Easy

You shook your head. This wasn’t
Going to be easy.

I held you up for the stars to seethe.
But more to the point.

Your bald feet nibbled on the
Wild stairs.

Hands became bodies. Hands
As beautiful as a trapeze.

A curfew of pulled nails.
You brought a hammer.

Are me. I am you.

I shook my head. This wasn’t
Going to be easy.

Just Any Poem

To perturb the air
The moon
In gallant horseplay
Seems to be as still as a chimney.
Though it has no use for ladders.

The kites on Mars
Are as blue as the sea.

But don’t let depression garble you yet.
There is the melancholy of the heart
To broach this night of shoulders
And elbows.

The poem can be

Black as a match head.
Vigilante as applesauce.

A wink in the thunder.
A thud on the daisies.

An illumination
On its side
Kicking at balloons.

Wish me luck.

Field Study

Where are you dandelions

On the edge of summer’s breath

The stars are volume and sound

And depending on mass

May end up as holes

Where are you exiled feet

The weight of distance

Is the circle’s end

I published a field study

On the aerodynamics

Of solitude

And found that it could swim

light and sod

the poem will look of light and sod the vacuum and praise the love and aloof

a stuttering child on a chalk elephant

the shirt of chance the belly of god

the sound of jars in light

I could put it away or put a table in a puddle

tamper with the lineation go ahead bury it will it grow

I will tell them then again not

Silence is translation

A smirk of distance a fever up the spine from the heels

I close the windows to increase the draft


sound out
the words

begin with


the tulips of a gas


(th(e t)ul(ips) of (a) gas)

and mostly

the idea of the self
just as meaning
really is less

a grasshopper
on a
concrete whisper