i won’t sing the deep thing from a corner. who would take me for their favorite riptide? this could be so jubilant, dear arteries, but you love a swivel—and they wonder how a body turns that grayer form of gorgeous. as if wonder was the ember and not the sum of deaths before it.

i may dissolve today. it all depends on how my salt behaves— the way it cakes across your skin. my ricochet of crystal off your fickle chemistry within. i only want to alter you till i become the salt of you & the mist upon your flesh is the bliss in which i swim. #vss365

remember to disappear every so often

whatever happened to giving angry young men in the shadows a guitar, a copy of nirvana’s nevermind and a single solitary joint

toss into concepts awareness like a pebble scattering pigeons #vss365

he fled the algorithm once it began to bramble & fell in with the ministry of mist—their valley of swanlight, bodies only plasma, good earth a gamble. days filled with the silky business of vapor, shawling the land in its own soft karma. floating murmurs into armor. #vss365

over the moon to have my ekphrastic poem land amid such brilliance!

a little mist cupped inside each apple blossom who knows what future

no news is good news like a wind pipe in a noose— like a letter from a lost friend you won’t look for without a friend who knows what you’ll do upon the gray discovery your first friend was never lost but just hovering in a feverworld in an anything you were not. #vss365

recipe for creation— take something broad like rot roll the word over your tongue & off your chin & down your belly find a quiet stone who has never felt you die set a limit like your narrow veins or maybe fifty words then against your apprehension commit treason

i’ll only wax long enough to slow the old song down. call yourself human, your home sphere is blue & softer than you ever hoped. earth has been a nurturing surrogate & when we evaporate, may we learn to lift her on our elevator made out of sunpowder. flame our leaving as a bloom.

a patch of dandelion clocks in the grass a woman wishing for more time #tanka #TankaThursday

we went as a dare. packs abrim with waves of bottled sound, fins to swim the loam as our hips still had none. tent irrelevant. we saw the site in a far yawn of blackfern—moon cracked just enough to let us in. all the wings & legs at awkward angles. we never felt the web. #vss365

Small things. Tiny sparks. Fireflies in the thick of it, pulsing against the night. #poetry #poem #art #digitalart

soft rain— silence falls from leaf to leaf

it really was just you against the grass. your body eclipsing a patch that will never know sun the same way after. something about destiny or decay—i don’t recall the dream but love your brows no less. the way you gazed up then left. swiftly left me with a nothing underneath.

take the feedback how you can—hop the fence after the last fetti has fluttered & slink across the bloody turf to stuff its crumpled scraps into your muddy parka. take it & run fast to your refuge. open with abandon. read the remaining omens & return your mind to diamond. #vss365

umbrella lungs and kites and things keep her up at nite; eyeblink waves and squalls of bees find her in a hover over fields; the jackalilies delicious missionary tall blackboot tight all this made sense on paper until the stars kicked the sky bled winking, knowing how but not quite why #vss365

I wander off like a butterfly net then you wander in like an exploratory surgery. If you're not waiting out my collection and I'm not escaping your findings is there a chance we're working together? It might explain our hobbies being connected by fate's nervous two stomach system.

What if we met at the bench to complain about our bodies and the quality of seed mix

sunlight in young leaves threading through the green and gold one fat bumblebee

take the feedback how you can—hop the fence after the last fetti has fluttered & slink across the bloody turf to stuff its crumpled scraps into your muddy parka. take it & run fast to your refuge. open with abandon. read the remaining omens & return your mind to diamond. #vss365

We cast our night Upon the ground Our bright faces shine As we walk Beside the trees As evening carries us home Casting our night Upon the ground Shape of us Stretching out As we walk Beside the trees Carrying us home

i’m not usually one to share. i mean i swallow light for good. the world is where i frolic with the quiet as my collar. not that i don’t love you—in my omens you flower all over me, family & alleyghost enjoined. i’m not usually one to die. but today i left the honey to the hive.

under this cloudlight all the remembered Aprils impossibly blue

gazing stars a desire to know each one personally #haiku

let go of stale belief— be creek. be vale. be leaf.

refuge.

This light is barely lit Soft for a moth In the night

sleeping by a fountain buddha-faced wee boy runner’s shadow races along the wall bright spring sun in a tree’s shade gleam of a starling’s feathers so purple green blood red tulips swaying in the wind a man forgets the war

across Spring fields discs turn soft fragrant earth small calves caper and lark #dailyhaikuprompt barley

I wrote you a poem this morning.

daughter cries at the state of the world and asks what she can do I tell her go to school, love your friends and carry your light like a sword

a benediction of birdsong my words are all I have

the sun hits the side of the house next door and I am born again

blustery morning— a brown leaf joins the birds #haiku

A haiku: Why does my knee hurt Also my back and elbow Getting old sucks balls

working overnight, tasting cool moonlight in each bite of the apple #sanka

laundry waves in the breeze— sky-blue sheets #haiku

New story alert! My micro, "En Passant" is published in the latest issue of @inkinthirds.bsky.social, a stunning print journal. It's a story of friendship, in which I indulge my passion for chess and its marvellous terminology. The full issue is beautiful. See link in my comment below.

the virgin green of spring's first leaves will I ever be old?

twigs tap the window part of me flies towards them becoming a bird

i am not that ghost in the wheat maze there, thin left-field notion waving white outlines of arms in your bled peripheral. no, i am this fat ripple right here, the dew below your blinking lid, as intimate a droplet as any dream that’s ever drenched you. yes, i am this— i am.

yesterday a hawk dove the songbirds scattered and I cheered a narrow escape but talons are a math that must be solved not with why but by X

little spirit sat alone in the flowers of her bones in the hours of her flesh wonder was her silhouette under moon yet over sun thunder wound her clover lungs summer sung the subtle hymn of a liberated petal gem oscillating quantumplating home again

I have a new poem in Stone Circle Review ❄️ would love if you’d read it 🩵 🤍

really you are vast a heart your cells really are you + you are really cells your heart a vast ‘are you really?’