A Simple MachineThe noose that was used to hang John Brown is allegedly in the permanent collection at the Massachusetts Historical Society.
Frayed and wild threadsfrom where the knife torethe rope from...
But Nothing Is
How does one measureenough-ness? Existingas the sum ofallone would ever need?I can littleascertainfor myself if even Isuffice
It is a feelingintangible as etheronly...
The Yellow Door
By ramrod fleet, by coonskin cap,walking contraband visits the shops,in this one and out that one,purchases wrapped under arm or carriedin tiny...
Visiting Lalla Essaydi’s Revisions
A security guard follows me
while I visit Lalla Essaydi’s photography,
paintings, and multimedia art exhibit in DC,
with close pursuit in latticed space
he...
Alive on Cuckold Creek I
My thalassophobic daughter monitorsmy adventures. I’m known to cross unfamiliarwaters, over my head, with wind, stinginginvertebrates, and at times little...
Rain (sex) Rain (sex) Rain
I want you on my faceRunning rivers into my earsDrowning my (fuck) muddled mindWashing me clean
Transformed to a tall oakLeaving...
Ode to Mama’s Mac and Cheese
A recipe passed downfrom her Mamawhen she was twenty-fourand hungry.
Some kind of tomatoes,whatever noodles you can find,and any cheese...
WITNESSING PHOTOSYNTHESIS
My partner ina sturdy flowerpot.
She trips the lightfantastic, into all life.
Comets arcuniverses, for her.
Waves entwine like wreathsto holidays, for her.
A sturdy flowerpotwalks out...
When tragedy strikes we become sleuths. We reconstruct events to establish the belief that it should have been us, it could have been us, it was our fault or we caused their death somehow. The days pass into weeks, the weeks years until the memory fades and details dim.
