Refuse/d words built into infinite forms of bodies. This collection is unedited; done in one sitting; sometimes daily, frequently infrequent.

Wednesday, July 31, 2013


Three years here,
battering my foundations,
the resolve gone to re-wake.

And I trip, trip, scrape
into the New Year.  
my thighs being my noise-maker,
my shuttering eyes confetti.

In this place, my self
is the inconsequence
of moon heat.  

I wane in an arc,
my shoulders curved and wet,
And wax into oblivion
dripping, and sweet-smelling.

Tuesday, July 9, 2013


My dead mother,
Descending the subway steps
In Technicolor:
She waits for me halfway down,
Looking up at me,
Trying to see
The ghost, following her. 

Wednesday, July 3, 2013


There is a terrible love
And care, and carelessness
In the forest.

I will be swallowed
By the dark and wood-heat of rot
Or I will be dissolved
Into the infinity of paradise.