November 24, 2014 § Leave a comment

smallest in the pinpoint of night

confined in the woven cream winter and pulling

plaintively until it unravels in yarn and yesterday

around me.

How normal.


tea leaves

November 20, 2014 § 2 Comments

You moved too quickly, too absently.
Thin, fabric skin split around the dull metal and scattered
spices and leaves – a wet, wolfish darkness –
on the porcelain Sahara
of your coffee mug.

You’ll probably die tomorrow.


November 6, 2014 § Leave a comment

Lying in the half light
darkness holds her skin
and her world turns in the chords of Hallelujah

Lying in the dark
the sheets hold her skin, now
and she turns in the swirl of his minor chord

Baby, I’ve been here before

Lying in the shivering empty night
nothing holds, nothing anchors her anymore.
She swirls into the minor chord: reverberate, then vanish


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