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Poetry

Excess

September 8, 2020

Two boys, pink in their manhood, lean over a balcony, full 
of teeth. Below: a brown man, skin tired of holding his bones. 
Work falls in shadows around his feet. 
The Puget Sound is bluer than any dream or sky. The boys loom, pink.

Evil

September 8, 2020

I used to believe there was so much evil in the world,
and though I’m the gentlest of all my friends, I never saw a rose in a vase

Form A

September 8, 2020

I need to try a syntax of each in place
of accounting: each-syntax as language 
within reach of one’s own body, 

Century at Lampedusa

September 8, 2020

In rubber rafts on the open field of the Adriatic, open field of the Mediterranean. 
In a diesel-powered ship setting out from Hamburg in 1939. 

Song of the Song

March 2, 2020

I wish we were living
a story of desire, but
I don’t feel Odysseus 
beating out his tale
of longing at the oars

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