Nothing More Than Digital Scores
It’s the striking of a match,
sliding a thumb dipped in sulphur
against a screen of phosphorus.
It’s the snapping of a lighter
when I click to open, and a silhouette
with every freckle and pockmarked pore
softly shines and strokes and spotlights
the bags under my eyes,
Shed Your Skin
Hello cemetery road, you with your
Long gravel tail that stretches endlessly
Towards some vague expression of peace,
There amongst the tallest trees.
You are rotting
Ballad of the Rebel Angels
Shadowed figures crawl o’er the hills —
From what crevasse they came
No creature knows but may distil;
Eternal furnaced flame.
Inside the Hollow Tree
Welcome to the beaver den!
here I squirrel away
things that might be useful.
Trust me, I need
my drawer of scarves I never wear.
Under the Weather
It is mid-June and
you haven’t seen daylight for quite some time,
haven’t left your bed or felt a faucet’s steady drip on your back, can’t
recall the last time you smiled where it wasn’t on cue
wasn’t it April? was that
the last time the sky was blue before the thunderclap that sent you home
aquarium dreams
tonight I pledge to have aquarium dreams
there will be octopi and axolotl and anemone and eels
they can nibble on blood worms and prawns and peas
taste the ends of my fingers and pieces of cheese