here is the sky in stop motion, flickering,
a still shot in monochrome

the man is stayed bent over the canvas
of my sofa. the man is me the man is him
self and I bring down the whip…

We stop doing dishes while
a mile unwinds
from the tree outside.

You said it was okay to blame
what goes wrong on the planet

I have an axe
with hearts gashed

Every so often, they add a tattoo
in honor of some long-forgotten love.

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…

Part of being a good sad person
is always painting the shadows
in the right direction and knowing
what sorrow to art with.

Long after midnight, we’re talking about our first time

my love is a glass shard, a knife made of madness and moonlight,
and there are already way too many fragments in this house

I tap at the alphabet while a single deer
taps at the dirt beyond the brush
on the far side of the tree line.

I suffer visions and many indignities
while looking for the Lobster

Even from this distance I could go out
the door it would bang shut and crumble