Tag Archives: Reality

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.


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.

this poem cannot be proven

this poem cannot be proven


as a proof,

as if mapping the ocean floor

in verse sky maps


the moment facts come forward,

line outline

with blank center—

leaves turn yellow

as a consequence of breathing


in/vertical dilation—

time slows down

when measured

by a fast moving observer


a sentence can’t be both true

and false,


and somnolent,

latinate and hand



certainty undoes

itself, in bark patterns


by bore beetles


event horizon

where time freezes,

hands fall

to our sides