Sunday 16 June 2024

in April

pristine the morning was
before jet engines broke
ducks and geese leading
little ones half woke
across the pond to where
the beaver felled maple
made for shade in


Friday 14 June 2024

after the thaw

i had to bury her
after the thaw
that bad ass bitch
after it all
who came to exist
when i was in danger
now left me wounded
and raw
my shadow like
a stranger

all the unfeeling
revved up 2 distraught
voices carried
across the hall
they were mine they


Thursday 13 June 2024

not to be mistaken

was not 
her thing 

the skin 

the lashes 
conveying tears 
to the crows 

only 4 

not to be 
mistaken 4


Monday 10 June 2024

I who made me feel

the way you
made me feel
i could not stick

i could not
whiskey rocks
i bought
and downed
til I was numb and dumb
like the wake of a

on the periphery i
discovered it was i
who made me feel
that way


Sunday 9 June 2024

what we had

it wasn't romantic
what we had
didn't catch fire like
some fad
couldn't make millions
off a silver screen
wouldn't walk a runway
just to be seen
faded discolored was
what we had
blown in the glare
of a weary lag
we quietly held hands
in the alley


Saturday 8 June 2024

a nod to inattention

cheers to meeting our potential 
at a four star hotel
with roses atop down pillows 
five hours every morning 
pushing iron letters into ribbons 
a nod to inattention and 
our own worst


Thursday 6 June 2024


thursday. chronically blue they chose another hue with a front loaded track touched with bright and friendly lingo


Wednesday 5 June 2024

key to the crime

discovered by a librarian working in the stacks it was key to solving the murder. they knew she had met him there and was his type and was the last place she was seen. the correspondence on the paper in the book matched both their handwriting and tied them.


Tuesday 4 June 2024


iota. ninth star. fading into blue at five forty-five am. the sixth month the fourth day of the year. it was ridiculously early to think but they could at least count to ten.


Sunday 2 June 2024

if dirt could speak

 the crow stood out 

against the songbirds his voice 

like if dirt could speak 

okay okay 

what have you to say crow? 

he chided me with off pitch 

neither sweet nor ingratiating 

felt somehow 

like truth


Saturday 1 June 2024


what architecture is this? despondent and fractured. one more stress and I fear it will all come down... you're mistaken, she said. it has weathered a thousand of our darkest days and will withstand a thousand more... long after your bones are calcifying the garden.