While waiting for the Percoset to kick in, and the Spinal to bid goodbye, (thus far I can tense the muscles in my right thigh, only), so I can walk, and pee, and get home, and while trying to breathe out in a hiss through the cramping of my missing womb, (though to be clear … More Wee Thing
I am drunk on this new summer twilight, the world’s wash is golden-hued burdens liberally poured, and so I will roll in the fields where the corn is laid out in straight, sober lines, the light Creeping between them like water rising slow – I will lick the tree trunks and the underside of leaves … More One For the Road
This poet pinned behind his ’63 Smith Corona at the art fair; he tilts his hat and waits for you To come, to ask him to free this poem not yet written, the one now held hostage inchoate in the fractal web of ether- He’ll lure it onto the page with whispers and worn keys … More Catch and Release
Halfway North 