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waves
whether the wood grain could attach itself like ocean waves without a shore or reference is not of question.
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in the kitchen I hear
a low whir existing in the gaps betweenour limbs and tax brackets our hair follicles and automobilespulsing as we blink. at night we decide to stretch outat the Strip to find last minute Christmasgifts. a light rain hums and drips on thecracked glass of our black stock sedan. the lotscreep and crack with SUVs and…
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soon it will be fall, and the soil will freeze (we are running out of time)
some licked mornings, in direct sunlight through crosshairspast the stairsof barnstoneI’d uproot the entire earth for you,one clodof soilper inchlost fromgrief, wecan dig tothe center, find our lostgaloshes the streamer’sglisten inour eyes’wake justwatch whilethe sod levelsas we kiss
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cusp
if it pulls youthe way it pulls mecan we ripthe cuspto find itspit, yank it out justto kiss it?
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spring manual
boorish and clunky, abarred railing, a flush of hydrangeaspring green flower starterspeeking from a grave, returnthe sun to myth the bird’s songa manual for moving on
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flock
another poem from my chapbook, published through the lovely Bottlecap Press! available here: all of the light of all of our selves, all at once flockbarelegs onthe backporch beforesnow, a generousflock of birdssings in a keysugar-sweet tothe toucha clapping ofwings thatsweeps the saltfrom the sky–your handsform a bowlto collect thegifts as theycascade butthey meltat the verysight…
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lux
stalled stuck park in luxwouldn’t shift, I gave into the voidflashed lights and laughedshut off wrapped skin in rainis it used up? has it run dry?forward always up I try, I’m tryingbut stasis is a ring, once trappedyou sink, you at the base atthe center you at the endsI fray, I gleam
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oranges
a poem from my chapbook — published by the wonderful Bottlecap Press, available here: all of the light of all of our selves, all at once oranges I wonder what it sounds like behind glass how the voice can vibrate and shrink listen aswe drink the snow &our cells enmesh all the while peelingoranges at your feet
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unknowns
evergreen trees danceand wave belowthe ladyfinger-likebranches of the unknownsreaching so far into thewhite-blanket canopyvibrating as spindles you saw me staring outthe window andgrabbed your drillto add more screwsto anchor the pergolato keep it grounded as particulate dropletsalmost invisibleshifted to soft tangiblesnow and yes, my arms grow newunknowns, belowthe wrist a stonea brush strokeon the elbow…