collaboration: results 1–9 of 9

not sure. the sun. but we knew.

the afternoons became burdens.

something to throw away late

at night. along with certain

perishables. under the yellowing

light the pickle jar. then morning

peeled peaches. then a still

afternoon.

A smack of jellyfish gelatinizes

the beach: man-o-war

blue bottles pop from hot

sand: tide churns these alien

bodies: we wonder why we

gather and destruct

Your skin's gone Mahler. I'm a toxin in your throbbing,

I'm spindle to your tumble & speak fluent blue heron

& not just with the radio, no. The white-handed gibbon

goading the night resounds in caged stages.

I wield a potent vocabulary. You're pulchritudinous. I napped

through English class. You know. Like. Um. Ah. You're hot.

Do you remember what I said, that night in the car?

You don't? Me neither. But at the time, it was true.

First eyelids and lips are closed, then open. Now, open eyes appear unseeing. A kind of dreaming.

For thousands of years people have carried their faces this way, one by one, only on their heads.

Under these conditions nothing is harder to control than reason. You babble without speaking,

march into the desert without water. We will die tomorrow, the day after at the latest.

Yeats found patterns in the rhythm of a place, changes in pitch,            the boat is a song—it is locations.

Since you've got a girl thats a friend, I haven't heard much of anything from you and had assumed you dead until Toni mentioned something about vancouver…

You say you are learning how to ask for things. I am learning how to do the things I ask for—

Begin to confuse, to confess, your stories with the stories of someone else, stories you were told there, that you were there to hear.

Dear Mom and Dad. We fly to Lima, Peru on Tues. Everyone says the airport there is the worst in the world and guarantees we'll get robbed. So, we're keeping our passports in our undies…