sheep in the wolfs den.

he got in!
a sheep in the wolfs den.
he gave them a sweater.
they offered him a cigarette
and had him for dinner some days later.

words hung like horses

saved words burn holes in pockets.
spitting, flowers erupt on porcelain and
cracked pavement a reminder of summers
gone. tossing rocks in puddles to pass time,
watching waves made from flat stones that
bring bacteria home for supper.

its even sunny when it rains.
this island turnstile
where gray is the most vibrant and beautiful shade
in a place filled with lush greens
and the bows of rains end.

missing waiting wanting to be here and there,
then and now.
with a heart twice devoured i pray for you to
keep preying for me.

dark matter death

circumambulation of each other's bodies
foley artists replicating the gestures
of our movements in time
space with sound

cruelty beyond cruelty
we stamp our feet in fear of retreat
romance
modern brutality
only allowed from time to time
discerning eyes
watchful ploys


it's a terrible thing, when you remember what you wanted to do the night before the morning after.

.