AUGUST 2025

clumps of hair on every surface. they say in medical terms, / when you lose hair, you start dying. it has been 243.3 days.

JULY 2025

We are chips / chipped off / discs of / transmigrated souls / less in the weight of love.

JULY 2025

humans are dead / humans are free / volcanoes salivate an air duct echolocation

JUNE 2025

/when the rain can't decide / 

            what's upnow must come down, later/

JUNE 2025

The hall was dark, a solitary lightbulb / swaying uncertainly like a dowsing rod / searching vainly for water.

JUNE 2025

I catch an inkling of that daynight from the lemonade ghost-moon in

the timeless sky. Cool cool light, come to my open window. Remind

me of the once upon a time before life taught us about the end of it.

JUNE 2025

Wearing a fuchsia dress that looked furious / against the backdrop of black-clad / musicians, she beat beauty from one side / of the stage to the other until it behaved

JUNE 2025

Everything feeds on starlight / The grassy plains / Photosynthesis / Energy embedded in the landscape

MAY 2025

The morning creeps in, / a pink light tongue fucking the curtains. / Coffee sits cold on the bedside table, / half-drunk, half-forgotten.

MAY 2025

There is a clutch of former passions / I have half-forgotten – once I could recite / Every breed of cat, large and small varieties / And all the Egyptian gods and goddesses by name

MAY 2025

My arrowroot forgives me easily / For lax unintentional dry spells when / Leaf blades fold in when parched, like palms upright, / Tight clasped in prayer, awaiting baptism

APRIL 2025

looking into the eyes of a pine marten / there was no holding of gaze / there was no recognition of shared experience / there was no deep time