I bear the brunt of that dream again;
two meters apart, but you’re still quaintly a...

the world starves itself of poetry-
steadfast resolution; we inundate...

Who else would remember— their first night...
fluorescent tubes, and the lone waitress who...

Home insisted on grief—an overabundance of never...
consisting of too little, reduced to living in...

April, a month of hunger and renewal, licks my...
with its warmth, drooling rain & snow over me...

Her hand atop yours, and on the inside, you are...
at daybreak no less, you could not part. You did...

Sorrow espaliered across the width of my...
manages to cast light on it. I suppose that...

you’re welcome to the feast, pardon the manners...
hunger does strange things, have your pick of any...

time stains my hands like turmeric—i...
of it, like ridding it would absolve me of me my...

In a language of lament and mourning—poetry...
verses like ’stranded among the living/called...

I come bearing fruit from the northern isles—you...
and wonder which flesh is sweeter, more tender...

Maybe forgetting is first, and death comes...
because we gave it meaning by connecting the...