All faces are one— so worship the bull at the gate, the elephant-headed son, the rising serpent light, and the dark mother’s womb. …
Soviet hazardous waste experts spent an estimated $2 billion on the cleanup and threw everything from converted moon rovers to radio-controlled bulldozers at the demolished…
Tomatoes and cucumbers overcome by mint — green beans hanging from gutters — circles around eyes weepy with moonlight. We sit on your porch, gliding…
Twentynine Palms two thousand eleven a salty, old Marine tried to tell me the legend of the Joshua Trees he spat brown juice from…
It’s all very poetic To gaze at oneself through a cracked mirror But far more tragic To wipe down a faultless one And find your…
sometimes, you reduce him to this: the place at the back of his head where the hairs have begun to fall out still, he becomes…
Circumstantial evidence entertains Thoughts of legitimate rape of the mind and memory Eliciting nomenclature of no men gathered in the recesses Pouncing As if Nothing…
It is the place where, without admixture or confusion, all the places of the world, seen from every angle, coexist. — J L Borges, The…
Next door a rooster inscribes his cry on the living cosmos. Overnight my hair has become a nest of aluminum foil to short…
“In this big world of adults, observing with my big round eyes, Mum said we are bound by love and friendship and live together as…
Soap dissolves molecule by molecule, runnels toward the drain and disappearance. The skin is core, outer the inner, so only the shrinking, —rounding,…
Our lives race feebly in all directions. A frozen piece of land at the bottom of the earth… “I seem to hold in reserve something…
Look how Mercury dapples the sky & Daphne’s house Faces north; there is nothing to say about the light Except it reaches beyond the heavens…
The old narrow wooden streets of claustrophobia with market traders of differing size and health are adjoined by newer streets of many young gazers arrested…
“In Monterey the squid they say is tender as baloney. But here I’ll pound a little round of tough old abalone.” George Sterling was Bohemian,…
I cannot reach you… If the waves would rise on the first day of September a Prince of Venice will depart down the sea…
I only want to know your name. there is a drizzle of homemade jam on this memory i think i have, like a hug under…
(1) On Rogation Sunday in a field in Kent The flowing blessing is presently underway. And in a building too shy to hold a woman…
Scour-faced, jet-lagged, fresh from the airport, they plod up the tower’s steps and stare across to the Old Man of Storr’s sky-pointing finger. And…
I. She relates to me that a race vet in Kaltag has misplaced a glove, gone gloveless and at forty below developed frostbite. This year,…