passed like a wavering wristwatch.
teeth quietly chattered.

the spider-leg-frizzy occiput.
raw morning shampoo. like an apple.

or butterflies. blunt sides of pins.
the polyester blanket soaked

from evening vinegar.
collected like dust.


(originally published in Cosmonauts Avenue – Spring 2015)



all my words are fingerprints
& ankles in the sand, the Atlantic,
broken wind,

& I’m in bed, awake, sleeping,
blue light, wake me up, do not
disturb, I wait, I heave, I heave,
I breathe, I dream

of waking up, a clump of silver dress
entrenched in my palm



an engine hums softly,
whirring. & the artificial black
stillness of fluorescent light

eyes that glint like shoeshine
activate the lives
of specks & lint


there is no future:
just you & I, hands interlocked,
a knit pretzel woven lover
& apprentice, each knot a
finger-printed window
to fields which rise
like pancakes in heat &
left cold on the table, uneaten


(originally published in Hermes Poetry Journal, Issue Two, 12/1/14)