Monday, April 7, 2014


Mary's New Comfort Nipples
Box as Eyes



I Dream of TV

Pleasure Tubes Unplugged ca. 1955


Saturday, March 15, 2014

[[...of an exiting Neruda ]].

    a niche in the pavement,
black hat head-spun southward

in glassy trill, the din of clock &
        springtime sprig snap
or that of an existing wound--
            intimate passerby:

     a shadow musician
accustomed to striking bow
along alley corridors

with hands & heart you
      greet him
   expecting a great
 a spectacle

     you’ve only once

from a bird, dusky nightingale,
     who sung mournfully
     through the salty spray
              of the sea.

Saturday, February 8, 2014

The Man Who Breaks Dimensions...

in his mouth,

            gives the sun its violent luster      ──He who

marks  the blistered streets of December

in his eyes                        &   births the new snow's

    wonderment                   ──He  stirs up windows,   dusty floors,

     calls to bones a grip of    

                    voiceless somewhere    ──He evaporates

on weathered skin,                  calls to it a sheath

                                                     of longing



                         & now it is Summer again
                    & now the navel yearns for spit

             He reflects the New World with corruptless eyes
      & moves onto a canvas                made of moonlit starvation

 believing this desolate island   

                                                                   is a smaller town

         much smaller than pores

                                         or his lover's hands

full of gravity,     little grains

                   wrapped  in womb

                                      of finality



A Doozy of a Dusie

3 works are featured in the latest issue of Dusie.

Some amazing poets are in this issue.

Eileen Tabios
Elizabeth Treadwell
Carleen Tibbetts
Arielle Guy
and many others...

guest edited by the wonderful Carrie Hunter.

Check it out!

DUSIE 15/16

Wednesday, January 15, 2014


from Breaking the Bird's Beak Hymen

                  Every night
                                a pooling of blood
         or exsanguinated
      the spilt seed

                         by morning
       how clean            the sparrow
                   divine its feathers
               a child