My mate Julie /hurricanes down Worcester Street /cycling for leisure /shouting at men for pleasure /on her way to Alice’s /on her way to play /furious games of Scrabble / My mate Julie likes to argue /with people she has known for years /and when someone has done you wrong /My mate Julie /will remind…
At the top of the stairs mama hums to the beatof the smoke invading the western horizon. An essayistwrites on the commodification of movement, and theradio recites names of planes eaten alive. What are weto do with all this leftover future? In the East, a grandfather sings to the prairiecrocus. Smoke coughs into the breeze,…
oh, how simple it must be. to wean. to suck generously. oral thrush and strep throat, but worth it for all the warm memories and healthy boundaries. how simple it must be to writhe your hip bones around in a circle. to not hide behind hands in your own home. I imagine what it must…
on the hill the powerlineshook the sky down on me i think, that blue isn’t humanor machine can it feel the punctureof us keeping the lights on? can it see the interfacebetween me and the cows? i think, my sister told me,we’ve never really touched— that our atoms keep anopening between them and it must…
An exact record of what happened after I typed the word I I set out to build a shed but ended up with a boat.Went for a cheeseburger but came home with a tattooof Sidney Poitier listening to Édith Piaf. I meantto be afraid of the dark and I am afraid of the darkbut only…
Dirt A group of workmen sit on the street staring up at the slate being thrown from the rooftop. They fly in, they’re the flying kind, they like to group together on the floor. I write a shopping list while I wait for my student to arrive, snake a long line up the margin. The…
There is a crowdsmall but growinglooking out to sea despite the stormI walk overcollar up, head down people pointsome are shoutingothers look away I follow the fingerssee nothing but the waveswild and heaving a man, talking on the phoneruns his fingersthrough his hair I look againout to seanothing, nothing somethinga piece of wooda strip of…
the dark park rankles with hoariness ancient pockets of omnipotence watch youclamber through the gates of treeswith fresh regret & equal determination the cruising spot tinkles with lightas you approach the weathered forms gatheredconstellations of eyes glow before you‘be not afraid,’ rumbles forth as you get on your knees the blasphemy of your body becomes sacredas…
On the wall, photos of when I was a boy, a postcard from Greece, a calendar.Mum tells me she is happy, then turnsaway. Rain falls heavy. When Medea killed her two sons,she knew what she was doing.Mum has read a lot of books, butI don’t think she’s read Medea, or knows that an earlier version of…
Tagging I caught monarch butterflies in my net.Then carefully held open their wings and folded a small white sticker overthe leading edge. I’d written JB on it. I’d wanted to put more—an address,a date—but that was all that would fit. It didn’t seem to affect the butterflies.Released, they flapped erratically away over backyard science and…