Redbrick wall

Picture perfect questions Posed in fractures of a brick, And answers painted in the clefts Of clouds that grey and break above. Broken rains and settled mottos And fa├žades that mock the sunset Word for word with loose Interpretations of the poem Never plumbed, This redbrick scaffold Barely fixed with scars and fissures Holding tenuous […]

Traces in a window

I’ll trace a path through layers of dust upon a window pane betraying years I’ve spent beneath a mountain I won’t climb, the outline of a shadow on the landscape taking breaths before they’re finished. And my finger knows the trails it’s drawn, but only on the canvas of the glass between us scratched and […]

To be a walker

To be above the shade of mountains where a cloud is close enough to touch and just a glimpse explains the breadth beyond me in a way a word ought not to try, where valleys yawn below me cool and silent so to swallow all the noise I’ve ever made and utter breaths in mists […]


I wish that I could shed these tangents and syntactic debts, the stray digressions cast in shattered flares and glances rent in atmospheres colluded with a word misunderstood. I’d like to parse a loophole in a misdirected phrase of sovereign clauses disunited, a means to make escape between the commas and the hyphons where an […]

Through the window

Somewhere in the drips of window glass, between the brick that hems in sashes to contain the views of seasons’ thickly grown, somewhere in the wounds of broken mirrors fixed to plaster walls and in the hardened roots of withered grass inclined to suffer drought for just a hint of rain to sip from clouds […]

Above a sea

If there’s a spare reflection Spread across these broken Waves intact, A memory uninjured In the hollow cleft Of crests and whitecaps Breaking and collapsing So to counterfeit the hours’ Work by sinking moment After moment echoes Slipping on this thin veneer, Then let me take it, For I recall too coldly Only fractures On […]

Dry garden

Maybe when the clouds return they’ll see I’ve paved it over. Maybe when they fold and break and find the garden gone they’ll choke the rain. Maybe I’ll go thirsty in these streets without a rose to water but electric blooms and ivy vines to fruit an amperage humming cold in a mirage translucence coiling […]