Tuesday, January 27, 2015



All around the branch’s knuckles
ice sleeps Turns the branch into the ice’s

There is no hunger in the air
or land that gnaw and gum the glacier
and turn it inside out

and it is frightening
the guilelessness of weather
and place

Snow show me where the edges are
to my one body

Monday, January 26, 2015

In Which the Traveler Is Chased

In Which the Traveler Is Chased

You can step out onto a pier and stare
at water

and not know anyone is this strange city

and look without knowing where
to look

and interpret the houses across the water
which are dark as being mostly empty
because of what the day demands

You can be alone here in this moment
and still find the pier full of people
you have brought with you

Thursday, January 22, 2015

For Breakfast

For Breakfast

Apple cut on the bias
don’t think I do not love you
even though I know nothing of your tree

I try without too much effort to to follow how you lived

little green nothing bud
filling as if from the center
a balloon with its lips gripping the faucet to gulp water
and earn a new body

Green skin streaked with red

I feel certain that the crisper is a place of dreadful loneliness
I don’t mean to be whimsical
I speak of wrenching from the tree what the sun said to it in intimacy
and eating it with only a little hunger

Wednesday, January 21, 2015



Every rivulet run off
the body here is a sluice
back in the sky’s glass

Go back to the ocean above

becomes the thing the glacier
says to put itself to sleep

Meanwhile a woman fills balloons
with helium for her daughter’s birthday

blue white pink purple
She tethers them to the birthday girl’s chair

where they hover lovingly as if watching