bleak mid morning

branches blackened
dripping ice
salt coats our undercarriages
breathing in scarf shards
filthy slush
bone-poking cold
pretending balmy sun
with weather apps
summer songs
piped through ear buds
under fuzzy hat
brisk shuffle
through bleak mid morning


if you run

if you run long enough
the blur becomes
a welcome pattern

if you run fast enough
the air rushes by
too fast to be contained

if you run hard enough
the life you carved
will wear away

if you run away
you’ll only find
you run in circles

run with joy
run with abandon
run from nobody
run to feel the wind

moon swallow

this will be the third moon I’ve swallowed
mocking the hyacinth
painting in blues

I like how it fills me
trembling and decadent
wrecking and soothes

without telling character or context
trading in sorrows
covering in lime

I like how it dysotopes
stretching cold fires
strangling for time


I read between the lines
only when they’re imaginary
if you draw them for me
I will ignore them

I listen for quiet between the beats
only when they’re real
if you imagine them for me
I will ignore you

I taste everything lingering on simplicity
not only when I’m hungry
if you try to fill me with you
I will ignore the feast

bird in rain

no variations within
the deviant’s always
nutty and soft inside
craving arms
finding arms
ire and algae
bubble out of the geyser
won’t somebody see
can they superglue the wing
or is it too cracked
the song’s still lovely
wait a moment