poetry

  • The Equator

    MittelEurop’s long formulas are activism from desire books of snow and pain on the table Antipodean solutionsare smoother but deceptively don’t add up too much. Continue reading

  • Block

    No u-turn at Almost from there a noiseless giant poised over me it’s usually the case that I enclose this tree or it subsumes me but I am intent on stasis to see how tall he is what helmet he… Continue reading

  • Hug of the Hive

    Warm I receive her body embrace of pollen and wool Her squeeze I breathe as my chest becomes metal to heat running honey to my mouth my face Care of breast and arms my gift is the hive climates mingle… Continue reading

  • Archipelogos IV

    The quiet panorama of a gold coin headless corona shine circa void no Sun King or brumaire round nominal colours lake of essence transuence of a day’s fantasia the shell told stories of elsewheres internal inhabited by mutant waves and… Continue reading

  • The Two

    The One is for heaven undoubtedness and everything The Two is for the treasury, coin stamped with head and value there are two sides to the story at least and for some, at best The Two is for the explorer… Continue reading

  • Chile 911 1973

    There are no grounds for a child exile to adapt to a foreign climate and recall new songs of an old time I have the Spanish of an infant hippy, and arrived outside from where the shore and even the… Continue reading

  • horsepower porn

    when in april begins the showers so sweet that the long island ice tea reaches the roots of the wheat the first cuckoo in central park starts yawning five seconds after dark you too, you too the owls and the… Continue reading

  • untitled

    I kissed the butterfly nebulae in a studio of airconditionersit had no name and uncatchable by net. it knew the drift of the aircurrents would somehow slowly slaughter it, by waltz or trace. Continue reading

  • Tanka

    The rain falls manysoft crash butterflies roadwisesmall hero shimmerthe rain falls paspallumwardgeofluvial dragon. Continue reading

  • Celador

    JRR Tolkien’s wife’s favourite son the good writer called The Second. ‘You know, the Second? My favourite words in the English language are ‘cellar door’ not because of its meaning but because of its sound…’ and the young JRR Tolkien… Continue reading