New Poetry: Faint Hall

Faint Hall

Here the match burns cleaner than candles see
themselves attached in the air to sight
"Breathe only like a candle breathes"
"Sleep down in the middle where the changes go drifting"

New Poetry: Anything

Anything

I fear the capability of man to
run away from nothing

And the popping sound
of synapses panicking

I fear the numbness to this sound
and the wordlessness
a big dumb change chosen
behind houses--

I contract the drug devised
for me

New Poetry: Something

Something


worthy in speech, I'm sure
the flowers could talk if
they had something else to say
to a bee leaning its neck down

I'm sure it would be fine
even if their sound was foul
or they seemed angry
or they just didn't know

New Poetry: by the Fence

by the Fence

every plague is like
the only weird swarm,
a sketch made with handfuls
wiping the sky

if you are brave
then you will die
sinking or standing
it doesn't matter

if you fear
the piece of yourself that hides
hide here now

gestures are a kind of strategy
a man with a cane
argues

New Poetry: Here's a Mountain

Here's a Mountain

here's the dislocating view from the car
and the hemorrhaging sky, glowing opal
through some frost, hear that it is turned
from its own reflection so it can be colorless

New Poetry: A Comics Reader

A Comics Reader

Jenna paints her face black and white so if

she stands perfectly still the moon and sky

stare back and

wave their hand at her to

investigate

a possible reflection

New Poetry: Kick Road

Kick Road

I throw the gravel off the road
with the one-hearted step, I want all light
stop me in the daybreak, waste my hours more.

if the seam is broken I want to fix it
if the grasp is loosening I want it to let go
if there's a pale clock in the sky I want it broken

New Poetry: Memory Here

Memory Here

There is no memory here
where there is silence.

"I have trouble keeping the bird in flight"
but I release myself as if I would
and truly I struggle no more in keeping

Where does the answer lie in relation
to the question that is anonymous?
drawn halfway in the door, I believe
corrupt businessmen ask this question

their loss is a number they can ear-mark
and they part with it, deliver it through
a shredder machine, displace that thought at once.
And truly I struggle no more with numbers

New Poetry: Graduation Day

Graduation Day

Times have changed.

the lunar man on the roof is tapping

a blind serial can't see him

Times have changed.

every word is shut in the palms

those who are scared to pick up the phone

Times have changed.

television before attitude

art before human, silence before comedy

Times have changed.

the angle of the language to be

not the fabric used to shelter anymore

New Poetry: Stabbing

Stabbing

"Sometimes you got to stab some folks"
"That'll work"
"What's wrong with that?"
"Josh will have a fit"
"It's like, 'It's good, it's good, I think that looks fine'"
"It has our address at the bottom"
"Just take out the phone number"
"This poem is so good"

New Poetry: Natural World!

Natural World!

This is the stare I give when I'm reading quietly
your palmed expression, to yourself a doomed expression
to yourself a carry-on item, played in vagueness
stretched over the It of responsibility, buried behind.

I've joined the road, not the travel, I've become sleeker.
I'm ruining it I know I'm doing that.
I know I can't think of fucking without thinking.
I know that red and blue make violet and
I don't like saying purple anymore.

When this is up, when I've quit going "deeper"
that's when you'll kill me here, you, alone and
me, very alone.  I wish there was a morning star bright
I wish there was a method to exploding I wish I could
just write in one expression to close one side off
from all the other bodies.  This is not going to end.

New Poetry: The Arson Rescue

The Arson Rescue

Sit in the house fire until Tuesday, 9:34pm

when we subsume your body to pay rent you owe.

When the last bird sings, that will be the time

we will bury you with your favorite book.

When the last bird sings, we will ask it a question

and it's answer will be a solemn rephrasing.

You will have died knowing the property you borrow

is a shelter in two different realities

New Poetry: Poem with Pretentious Lines

Poem with Pretentious Lines

I do not know where my love comes from.

I can see a row of houses, they seem
to sit along the sill, I'm looking out
onto a byline to start my poem.  But
where is the matter handed me.

I do not know where my love comes from.

I engage the stereo, make logic a method
to weed-out abstraction.  I hear sounds
that corrupt calmness or
ask a person to be still in the middle of it.

I do not know where my love comes from.

I'm not looking for anything in the windows.
Just posing for the light I could become
if I try and be silent like a good man is.
Where the window is nothing.

New Poetry: Strayer

Strayer

I will loiter on (around? in?) the past tense
a day longer.

I will drive my car to the beach and sit until
the sun slept.

This one's on me, I will drive until I'm slept
and I can correct the wheel easier.

Drive until the world slept
in the ashtray shut in the car.

New Poetry: Baby's Hands

Baby's Hands

No cluster, ever-expanding grass

to reveal the dirt reveal the beating

the flame-beating, memory of it

I seek no hand, no voice not my own

I can't correct the earth, I do not desire

to become apart from this design

New Poetry: Juvenile

Juvenile

I speak on the snap
of a wishing bone, all the tomato plants have ended
on the porch, outside the door

and a wish is a color I can't see
can't the seeds grow up

New Poetry: Thoughts a Minute

Thoughts a Minute

There is no stress better than this stress

just a boiled boy boiling in the street

seeing the lights as just pieces of the sky

But we cannot feel what we do

until it falls over inside our stomach

until the night sun cuts its curls

Do not rise or salute the breeze

not to say "breeze", to say else

the motive in hand on that day

New Poetry: World

World

"I see a rose bloom on another man's vine." - Tom Waits

I think
it gets away, it is
what I say it is
it is not a numbers game

hitherto
distraction can squeeze
what is not right
into the way

what do you say in private
when throwing me
back over your shoulder,
Say that to me

New Poetry: Objection

Objection

There is no one behind the glass.
A person's face in the mirror is a picture.
The light from the window exists as two kinds of light.
The shine from their skin is the same as a fruit.
Every vulnerable thing is the same as a grasshopper.
There are three different grasshoppers in the yard.
Someday you will be no different from the light.
When you stand still in the bathroom, when

New Poetry: to Shut

to Shut

do not misunderstand a cluster of bones

for a skeleton

do not hold your hand out

now for a skeleton

every person you are

you are weakening