Tags » Poetics

On poetry and how it can make my skin forget it is.

Writing in erratic metaphor that I’ve begun calling ‘poetry’ is something that’s been recently making me feel more crazy the more I do it. I see it as a practicing and developing relationship with a myth unnamed, a chi that floats in and out of my being, and as it does so I lose the ability to discern when that starts and ends. 156 more words


the poor don't get amnesia

snake was made
from the bones
of a circle

toys made in human silence

the rock thrown by an only child. the wasp the seashell of a mother’s desert. the zookeeper’s raft.


the white doghouse. the closed drive-in. the animal we shared to avoid miracle. our empty child

from books.

Dear dash,

This world needs something else of us.

In a troubled time, humans are troubled.

A conundrum of feeling, wandering.

An inability to feel allegiance with dimensions we find ourselves in. 107 more words


my civilised life is ruled by
illusions of scarcity and
imbalances of surplus.
They shatter the stability of symbiosis
that trees must have with the dying floor… 30 more words