a fog this white mess of morning driving out of Ohio
trees dressed for a funeral per the new norm
dilapidated barns redbrown in the green
grass corpsebrown snow an oil stain birds
couldn’t afford flights home this time their muddywater
wings a gunk on the canvas of sky
the countryside is tainted
Abbey Road scores this thread of potholes
we pass a sign Muskingum County initially read as
rises from pores of the greendead ground
until all we know is the death encompassing
fog clears at noon
birds ravage a halfdeer
(originally published in South Florida Poetry Journal, Summer 2019)
do you believe in demons
it is an election year
which means half the populace is terrified
more than they usually are
half of us believe you can cast hell on a ballot
without holding your breath
cloaked and mortared
to cast bombs into the future
forthcoming days that glide like saliva
we argue until our tongues hurt
and our minds are worn from fire
that we build organically
rubbing sticks together
and the whole nation burns
cold and lifeless
what America needs
is for fewer people
to preach what America needs
and to follow the strays
who wander the streets
to see where they go
(originally published in Black Elephant Lit)
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)