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

Monday, October 14, 2013


tapping at tables
careening over half-eaten sandwiches
soggy from the plastic wrap
each student troubles
the space around them:
the world knows them
by the captivated noise of their
bodies, their cascading
thoughts, their tinseled throats,
their electric teeth.

abandoned beside them,
leather pouches burst
with scribbled papers,
the clock calendars their
wet skeletons, beating time
with minute tickings;
they gyrate their jelly-muscles
reinventing the environment they eat.

Monday, October 7, 2013


A lion opening his yaw,
Wide and earth caven inside,
holds the great pounding
Of fire beat, that nagging forever
That made creatures crawl
Shuddering and slime-solvent
From the first still ponds
And keeps them calling out
Relentlessly, for a new set of legs
To take them ever farther,
to make a distance.

But was there ever a little creature
Who found the soft shore far enough,
That found the sand grains wondrous
As they flickered moon-sharp?
The in-between body,
the forgotten step
seeping all time through the ground
growing like fabled orchids
fertilized with god-voice.