love letter to kenneth patchen your generation is dead. now mine is reading the newspaper and fading scans of your poetry. jstor delivers you to us in droves...

Let the Clouds Speak Love can be so cruel to eight-year-old girls who remember every cut their parents sliced. Funeral cake with bloody confetti; unintention...

Little is known throughout the rain. The sound is keen, but all my words are broken. I hear a single dog barking, longing in a distance. I call for you...

On Our Way to Missouri There is nothing to spy except for blue skies & old videos of monkey-pudgy babies sitting on a box of soon-to-be-sold cigarettes. My v...

when you think of the dead / you don’t necessarily imagine / people coming back as zombies / who tear flesh from bones / or munch on skin/ you think of decay...

One finger. One finger in the dark Enters. Does Wonders. Finds Stasis. Finds Water. Makes. New, old reservoirs. One tongue. I’ve Wondered, could I do What a ...

C18H34O2 after the experiments of E.O Wilson They say that insects do not have the brain capacity to worship or the ability to mourn but how else can they co...

Approaching the register, the employee working it slid Pauline an electronic slate and accompanying pen to write down what she wanted. At the same time there...

We All Race the Tide After he beat you, I waited in the dark, listening to the wheezing swamp cooler that he told you he would fix. It’s muggy air silted on ...

Graveyard Song I hum a somber song into your waiting ear. Dear I play happily as if you're still here. Beyond grave song, a gravedigger solo reawakens memory...

linger hold me tight / as you sleep / keep me from slipping / away, more ghost than woman / a haunting to linger / energy trapped in each delicate moment / t...

I wake around midnight on Christmas Eve in the old hotel; my mother is still sleeping. We are not alone. For three nights now we've heard soft footsteps in t...

run, run those fields of gold until they sour. trip through unripe brownish landscape with short breaths though I will catch you. I will pick you up by the t...

You like to imagine what you would do if you heard hangers clashing together in the closet. When it’s 3 a.m., the loneliest hour, but you’re not as alone as ...

you wanted a little bird caged away pretty woman seen not heard obedient and quiet whose song you could keep to yourself, but i refused the demands you infli...

All you can measure Two black holes; I am, i am spiraling towards an infinite pool - of matter, or how it matters, or the mingling of Time + space they say {...

A Sober Man Can Play Pretend He takes a bottle once more To old memories, he raises a glass This is the last time On his goodbye, he drinks it down He's a so...