Archive for September, 2020


Sans Matériel

I feel like a dying match that rotates through space,
bends and contorts to consume the remainder of its own flame:
to perpetuate the light 

the darkness for now awaits just a moment longer...

Chagall 2020

Multi Ply

Today I am sporting heavier sleeves
on which I shall wear my heart

Chagall 2020

One for Ripley’s

Stoned, not impaired

Chagall 2020

A’int It Though

This morning I share a small bowl of very fine cannabis
with a praying mantis I find clung to my porch screen

She there on the outside, I face her soft underbelly,
through the mesh I stroke her legs and arms, antennae,
and admire that swivel-head so human 

I blow wafts of smoke her way, tiny shotguns, 
imagining her sharp inhales, filling her receptors, 
until she is giddy there in the pink sun rising, 
raising her prayers up

She swivels her head to me and I swear I hear
Got any cookies?

Chagall 2020

.008s

I strung my guitar 
with very light strings,
left it outside for the wind to play

Joy
sorrow
complacency
foreboding

all in the very first verse

Chagall 2020

Like A Bra

...and all the things that I would do,
on this final day go undone

Chagall 2020

Next Around

I'm not quite sure yet if I fear death,
for I've excelled in end-games till now

how odd to carry this voice inside,
still odder to be disembodied

afloat among meadows, amid almond trees

ah, to be a pollinator burgeoned with pollen 
from star-flowers, asleep on the morning petal

with nothing to dew

Chagall 2020
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