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In the afterlife from a distant forest

driftwood cast upon the sea’s lashing, slips through the fingers of waves, colonized by gribbles, riddled with pinholes from shipworms, hoppers, wood piddocks home/dinners, dressed in brine at the...

Schadenfreude

Everything comes at a price. This evening, too, will have to be atoned for, somehow. The balcony door is open and the dog watches our neighbors bicker outside. She’s...

Why Not Climb?

Whether it’s a bouldering sheep or a raw snow-bone, at this distance all is tantalising and inconclusive. Either way, there’s a silver flaw in your best eye, a speck...

The New York Times Publishes 1000 Names

I don't know about you, but I'm ready for something to be different. This staying at home, not knowing what's going to happen next, worrying, not...

Covid’s Metamorphoses

I know—I know, sorry! Sorry. It’s this basement desk, this heavy rain, that has me thinking of that wet poem, book one’s great flood, the threat...

Insurrection, January 6, 2021

The god of destruction has finally chosen the time to reveal himself in his vast formless Picassian glory. He treads horned and naked through the elegant...

Aspiration

Crowned a week before Easter. It is spring. The spirit might have whispered in your ear, as with Mary; the virus could have entered though the eye, through other openings. Your uvula once pink and light as...

What Grandma Read at the Bottom of My Cup

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...

Short History of the Accident

Each morning the same skull fracture, an indented line I trace with my fingers in the shower while washing my hair. The drunk leaning over,...

His Answer

I lean forward trying to keep up conversation as I watch my father make himself eat. At ninety-six he struggles to keep up his weight. Forty minutes for...

In the Realm of Fear

I whisper, Heal us, heal us hope my words find a prayer, imagine it rising like mist— how easy it used to be as a child. The ritual...

Aubade

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...