Poetry

There were little blue flowers that rang when you touched them, he said, and tasted like honey. Then he stopped talking. Palm fronds and eucalyptus. Grasses rising, thickening as...

King of neither plant nor animal but of mornings after rain / / ghost sprung in the gloaming a memory of betweenness / / arisen in the dark and...

What a good use of time falling is & regardless of the into, i.e. a pile of leaves, their rustle, a love, the little sigh a bed...

I demand a day without so much fucking sky. Or, so much brown earth, flattened as though rolled and pinned by the muted white firmament. I loved it...

In a countryside green as a dollar bill, with the much handled commercial vegetation from around mall parking lots or in freeway divides, in a landscape where...

on record. we’ve heard it before, the hottest ____ on record. just fill in the revolving blank. hail mary, full of grace ravenous wildfires. floods. look! here’s video, a camper van...

Curtains draping over lungs netting over the tiny me in my spine melting and wet like a funeral but only stretched out unfurling into snake swelling into netting so large it chokes out the...

It was the sound of stirring stone fruits In a stationary blender, and the screens Guarded discernment, and slats faced the wrong Way, smoke alarm pierced with...

Heath, here I am, still, whisk in hand, dusting bubbling butter with flour in this Brooklyn kitchen, waiting for flame to toast away the raw flavor the way...

Paul Buhle: A few words about the poems: These poems could be described as working notes of successive field trips during 1978-83. Poetry, being...

It’s such a dumb thing small thing. Right? I’m on the phone faking this guy out. Maybe some regular. He can’t know that I...

The hand that strokes the sleeping cheek will throb with self-control: a pulsing power station. Kindness is titanium. So plant. The seed will burrow up through dirt...