after Salvador Dali If you lay the chair on its back it does not look like a woman. If you push the chair back and remember me sitting in it, it will remind you of a woman who was shaped by a chair. When you sit on the chair you make the woman into the […]
A thousand drawings of the same head in film-still sequence: a flip page cartoon. Brow moves lashes lift from a split second shut— maybe: a hand rising to the leaded lips with Gideon’s trumpet playing rose petals falling. Such divinity. Or, just a witnessing of movement, the mastery of musculature, the crescendo of, maybe, a […]
Oh, the little hours of the night we would tiptoe barefoot down the creaky hallway through the porcelain white kitchen, where the moon reflected off each tile Then out onto the patio. The spindly weeds made their way between the silver slabs of slate which we would lift up slowly surrendering the cool skinned salamanders […]
I have memorized the coastline of your key, fingering it in my pocket all morning. One chink reminds me of the gap in your teeth. Another, the space between your first two toes. This whole jagged ridge could be your heartbeat on an EKG. Lunch hour, I drive over, slip it in your door, sit […]
I promise not to touch you if we pull the beds together, and you let your hair– old cells, belonging as much to the world as to you–drape across to me, so I might twist it in my fingers as you do, in the fruit market questioning yourself about melon and time and the man […]
Fog is the rain’s wife. I’m trembling not from its emptiness, but because it is so full of what passes through the tongue and the feet refuse to describe. Fog covers the scythe in the horizon that offers, to grass like ourselves, the ecstasy of its edge.