Turtle doves cooing at 4am
electricity in the wet air
gives rise breaking into
circadian eyes

The freeway’s wheezing ebb
talks static on the banks
of a still lake chatting with
barbecue smoke

I’m walking just above the high
water entranced
to elder oaks watching
thoracic red ants swarm the crag

Raven never, made no master —
the pieces just lit us up.

Two Hours with Kaleb


You had already for years seen behind
reticent veils of trash strewn
suburban rooms
no home outside your skin
living in a surrendered state of, uncle
most kin modeling waste
you wove tapestries of bowed hope
from newspaper cat litter confetti
every day a darkness
you made found from lost

once getting out of bed
led to
following the call

where you came upon a code
an outside with an inside
a fine find for your kaleidoscopic mind
finally figuring from the inside
with a reason to leave your eyes
when the veil’s painted hands
parted hard
you slipped through
leaving us with wooden, petrified questions
a living story to answering
in gambits

outside at the shrine at glowmen
i spoke your name for days
trying to defy the hole
that hadn’t closed
because you were waiting
for us to let our worlds
burn down around it.





when there is no more i’ll

look out the window at the hills before the sun crests
feel my heart pulling at my throat

speak your name and reel at the echo
slapping me alone

attempt forcing square meanings of change into
round holes of living

pump chi from the ground up
and let it out through the song you give
in good grieving

laugh, cry out
bit by wind with wet cheeks
smile greeting what is now only invisible

now you teach me, now you reach me
with this loss.


A Return to the Mined

On the field players stream and bundle
Like the larger ants clustering from row

For us the idea becomes the object
So gradients of will with gravity can muster

These queens have no glory, we
Sense to make and feed meaning

Un-watered hearts best with distance
Glorifying a codependent zero

Ones become guns, shot-wads
Chunks of collective flesh
Filling space between us
Still bridges, only composting.

Child with clay, quiet
She plays at the edges
Unknown simply, imaginary friends
Waiting to be asked in again

Space to fall upwards
Roots within
Let’s dance lest we begin.


Undying companion
Slayer of squirrels
More reliable than adults
Gracious with feline tribes
Good dog deliver us
He who in straying from canine norms
Brought formative lessons to my
Twelve year old world

short pants in spring

When I was 13
me and McGinnis took off
on the CB 100
amping through the dip in Berry Ave

making a right
our weight reigned in
through sheer thrill
gripping the waist of high centered fear
drifted off
then closing a fast book
my right knee was ground down
yanking up and over to the left
we made these knees even

nigh no knee nerves for
One day
in grew
long, sensational and true
two knee beards
who today gladly greet you.