Tag Archives: Perception





dawn light at ease

in the bedrock


the conjunction

very little sleep





night and language,

a symbol disappeared into

liquid depths,

neck broke


now ankle-deep, walks

from the flooded field





the length of a bird’s



numbers become







in the old tree





grey wooden fence

two Canada geese

wire and brick through peeled stucco

yellow weed in the sidewalk

storm-sky through wires

no sign




news of a murder

on tv—

invisible forces.


Within a constellation,

imperceptible movement.


An alarm




The vertebral body










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.

winter method

winter method


sound wavers within the altitude


small grains move between here

and the horizon


locus of the principe


territorial boundaries


in the repeat story,

as canyoned as marrow bones




a conifer grows northward

toward an anonymous star—

only a percent


ultimate joys



these roots gently in leftover nebulae




too, a story of fog—



stand up, begin slow movements

toward the hearer




hoof beats absorbed in the sand—

the she-horse escapes

east, down the road


everyone waits outside









opens hues only known

in passing—


the mind precedes

and follows by long



reach in, the image

swirls in displacement—

as known principle

that forms the earth,

her fragment moons

so ejected


leave aperture open and you’ll see

what they mean this is only

one phase of the question


sound- and scent-

triggers: bullfrog brooding

in the ditch, creaks the branch

against the trunk in the wind


our continuous kin, opens all windows

and screens thus replaced—


winds through gallery of all remnants

now displaced


weaves meaning, a unit

untethered from perception—

often the scale is wrong the words

wrong, but kinesthetic impulse,

auto correct


I’m telling you, I didn’t hear

what you heard. Song bird’s opteryx

lineage. Aquifers’

abduction. A honey bee

dies inside a flower. All

is meanwhile—


I fear I have no reason

to return, to intercept

of perception

and words



depth cues

depth cues


half in the sun, half

out, the right leg in halves,



implies divisions are tactile,

set in motion by an Ur

gesture, breathing in,

out, to let go,

as the declination



we can agree

the horse stands

at the far side of the blue

fence—we agree


but inclined, his nose

on the near side, reaches

for hours—


and the eye in residual

motion sees only

a crossing


I see motion

only after you move—

thought surfaces

across your face

a second before


I feel in my heart

a depth charge


I used to think wild

berries grew as the fruit

of dreaming; from within

the green and the dark,

such sweet, and bitter gestures


so knowing the circuitous

route of a songbird, the way

the other animals move

without obligation

or codes of reason


you can never trick your mind

to undo what’s done; objects

absorb as much as they can,

and reject the rest, which is

where we find ourselves




Drawn from defects

Drawn from defects


Riots of reject hues

minute vi

brations against the intercept


loving interpretation or

distrait wonders through




Best to love deeply as a flaw

than to skim pretty-pretty—

even as depth

inflicts the spiral


into scrap-heaped un

shining moments


Love the defect deeply as the only

sure thing


Please, reflect for now

one, a pool

of defects, as if chosen

by you for specifically



Please accept mirrors at pressure,

pretend you imagined them first,

not the interlope we share

through transduced zones

of winnowed light

and false starts which are

the only



Paint brush number 12—broad

and simple—with its own hand,

a series of force from source

to source


Listen: anonymous

translation in process

captures the original voice,

at a volume, multiplicative

so brush size

rarely a factor