Anticipation

AnticipationThe man in the moon is sit­ting in his bathtub.His wash­cloth in his hand,he is scrub­bing his left heel.Because tomor­row, he has a date with that skin­ny barista from Ashtabula.Who is sit­ting on her front porch,rocking slow­ly away from Ohio.Looking at him and won­der­ing ifshe should make a wish. Published on The Laundry Line, 11 … 

Lost Girl Sonnet

Lost Girl SonnetMuscles jos­tle against waterlilies.A scab can cov­er a wound for a punc­tu­at­ed year.I am like this some­times— A cat lick­ing chick­en juice out of the bot­tom of the sink.The thing about the past is that the phone always picks up.Random facts nev­er come to mind when you need a ran­dom fact.Of all the … 

Architecture

ArchitectureWe put our pasts in our pock­ets where theyrub up against loose change and ghost stories.They min­gle with the con­fet­ti of every laun­dry list, want ad, park­ing tick­et, and fablethat we have used to explain and con­found our lives.Truth rubs off and leaves form­less tokens that we stamp with mis­re­mem­bered par­tic­u­lars and implau­si­ble circumstances.Counterfeit materials … 

Silhouettes

SilhouettesThe sun had just reached over the hill andthe crows were mut­ter­ing their approval.As the depart­ing stars scav­enged up the the birds’ black shadows,a branch cracked under the weight of so many thieves. Like a sneeze they flew. A sneeze that broke my one remain­ing rib. That crack,the death of all­shad­ows, then the eyes of … 

ode to the letter b

ode to the let­ter bnot the begin­ningof the alpha- bet­but some­where at its head.perhaps lev­el with the eye­browswild whip­ping­bushy bla­tant­ly untamed­eye browsEinstein had noth­ing on the brav­ery of her eye browsshe blows bat­ters the shut­ters we have failed to bat­ten­down on Sunday morn­ing and we return to blue­ber­riespiebald sheep and that­white horse with one blue …