how does an afternoon turn on its axis?
I count my homes— those of my scattered youth the sanctuary of our young family the intermittent rest stops of apartments and vacations.
I buy too much, for someone of my stature. could pawn a skinny metaphor to purchase a plump skin. its reputed in our lineage— to daydream a life that shreds our pockets.
I want to roll in this moment until I become its vocabulary until I smell like the bones until I am its echo…
Mostly he ate what was put on his plate snuck coffee grounds or dirt for a snack Once a zipper Unzipped
You let the yellow glow from eye sockets. The building up the street is burning faster and faster.
and apples, mackintosh mostly, but any kind left in The Pub at the Assisted Living Place
My grandmother asked, “Does it feel like being widowed?”
There is so little left of the tomato plants.
anger, like you can sink teeth into, candy apple
Just starlight and some small scribbling across vinyl.
this is what I want you to to see: leaves falling because it is too late for them not to
We found in his suitcase T-shirts, his siddur, gifts he bought for his grandchildren…
Even as the sun warms the concrete the long nights’ sensual cold lingers in my clothes.
I’msorry I‘ll see what happens iLife
a folksome, gruesome opera of gauze and malcontent.
The collective failure of ethical standards
the strands of your hair on the bathroom tiles aren’t sketching defeat. that’s you spitting disease in the face with another day you’ve woken up to.
it’s touch-and-go with me and weddings
The storm passes without snow. The car waits loyally in the back lot.