Tag Archives: Perception

glass + fragment

glass + fragment


temporary verse, an avenue

look sideways, no one returns a look

dark shapes glide across the glass


possess or interpret the gesture,

only edges are visible

tremor, a sudden thought

of relation


lost in reflex—stand mirror to an eye.



after car drifts past, the carriage

of untelevised moments,

thus accidental,



(the interior

of a window

its own




at times a tree bends or a window directly across hides a world it’s Chinatown a lady’s on the roof hanging laundry it just started to snow tv news reflected on the inside smoke has engulfed the yard or pigeons on a wire in the country they say doves a dog paws a cool place to press the whole body to the earth the glint of memory engulfs the mind, again and again and again


Veils of code

Veils of code

Hint of aftermath—along the route. To claim damage potential as an act. From a safe position, film every action-reaction as a neat package. Best to leave part to the imagination. Best to write loose across a wide page. Precision will come later. The route widens with so many people and people in cars. Routine movements within, and stop, and go. A loaf of bread, espresso. There is nothing to complain about, so sigh. A thin residue on the glass is not bipolar in/of itself. The bird highway baffles as always. One in the front, and a view from the back.

It appears we’ve lost the route; rain in veils. What’s left out in the rain? (It never rains). Without the sky, we’re aimless. Pulse of blood in finger tips. A leaf fell from a full tree in the rain. It never pays to be at the front where the action grows. A stunt to find another route. Let the words trail off the page. Only the birds are certain of their actions. The phone in my pocket breeds code as a desperate stunt to find a new route.




Blurred total,

absent the blind area,

out of reach of the pendula,

the bird arc.


An unseen violence

must be undone to complete

the image,


origin, Ur,

of urge,


reciprocate habit

of looking through and past, but only

a half-look, like a move

through the half open door.


Better to not look on the hour.

Better wait longer, to note changes,

otherwise feel a fool to the primal




Elements are around you—no use

gathering them,

or they overwhelm.


Multiple avenues just out of view

must converge

as all things do,

but the unifier is missing.







Dark matter

Dark matter


Revert to entry: handmade holes

knit together homely hours.


Turn back—repetition

masks there is nothing, no

thing where the spirit apparently



Rounded out,

a shape  —  threaded

feathers, filtered sunlight,

excrement, and sweetgrass.


Constant variable, an entry.


An inevitable unknown.

Fingers unfold, light

formed only. A lie unwinds

in the eye, of lines and texture.

The hard surface of a window.


Directive to move through glass.

Will the body unfold further? Breath-

fog, matter to live on,

maintains the tethers;


the spider’s

web, canopy bird,

garden cataract, crumbs,

film on the table

of spilled coffee,


no explanation given.









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