that’s not what this is

that’s not what this is



a package

once opened

past limits

leaves all wires exposed



a decision has been made



you were peeled away

and hung there, in a hole

behind the law


if you had reached

across, the border

would have grown

to absorb you


there is no entry and no




in an effort to diffuse

the witness—


(never agree to what

you’ve seen)


call the word out

as it is,


through the reflection,



through to the ground






Protect human rights, and basic decency.

Protect all First Amendment rights.

Support the ACLU.


post facto

post facto


inhabitable space

behind a word

like freedom


will no longer hold


now, walls

enclose the walls


i ask you to remember

the dancer’s movement


outside the confines

of a spotlight


free of any stage

or constellation


attribute, subjunctive



if i could begin again



i’d disrobe the dark


write my way through

subjective memory



i’d arrow me an opening,

and move,



alternate truth

alternate truth



the road through concrete

canyon cannot hold



a voice yells in an alley

candy wrapper

in the grating

wet cardboard box






all erodes






find home

beneath asphalt








“things as they are”







less an antidote—










algebraic confrontations

clog perception



Thanks Ms. Kellyann Conway for giving us “alternate facts” this morning. What a vein of gold you’ve given us. To the rest of us: fiercely protect the freedom of the press at all costs.

after the procession

after the procession


snow covers the monument

the tree-punctured sky

does not speak


an engine grinds

through the heart

of every brick


ridiculed to the point

of treason—


an avenue is not for walking


the ancient city

heaves up its dead


in the fliers and posters

that cover concrete walls—


the weight–

our armor,

our weakness


messages in cursive


stare hard at the face

in front of you

to remember

yourself before—


the lines and creases

words writhing


someone left the door ajar

to instinctive cruelties


to get out from the wall—



once it breaks, it breaks.

notions of distance

notions of distance




where the body hurts,

pattern experience


an attempt is only to live

as someone else,

to extend—

an outline of the unknown


you sound out the remnant

the brief



passing through the room

an apostrophe interlopes

an alphabet


the top curvature of a cloud


news breaks whether or not


arbitrary reading from left to right

and down


a distinct echo


hands and mouths,

layers of gods


lightning from behind the mesa



notions of distance