we converse in ceremonial reverse code
where every word means its opposite
every consonant scrapes like nails
across chalk
a crosswalk
a cross

from "mathematics of prayer"
2023

A Shakespearean sonnet is basically just the Elizabethan version of a dick pic.

Snow covers the land the way blank paper covers the story. The story has always been here, covered by snow. Your writing is archaeology, not imagination. You are uncovering the story, not creating it.

from “Snow”
2006

#shortfiction

the rocks arguing with one another furiously
before subsisting into dusty reconciliation

feeling finally profound, important, relevant, significant in this quick grave

for depth is created by digging
and dirt requires bones

from "the dancers in the desert"
2024

#poetry

circadian waves of mass death
caught in Acadian tides

photons, half-priced since out-of-season
outdated ash from obsolete eruptions

the retina starts
to retain light stains
macula no longer immaculate

from "the artificial waters"
2023

#poetry

for we sing from our very skin
we taste the salt in the air

our music pulls these ships apart
hisses through these alleys and lanes
these streets of wood
burning under our feet
our feet on these streets are life itself
our feet hold the ocean down

from “Duke William & Violet”
2006

#poetry

The city above had been long abandoned. We lived in the sewers beneath. As our population grew, the sewers grew: we were constantly digging new tunnels, creating new rooms to live and sleep and die in.

from "White Cloud"
2021

the sky
hardened into grey stones
falling as indiscriminate bombs

anger awakened
in a touching coming of rage story

vast, unending constellations
buried in shallow backyard graves

from “metrophilia”
2024

#poetry

there’s death in numbers
and safety in death

the past is set
the future is set
the present is uncertain

the storm pauses a moment
to take a selfie
then goes back to its work of creating new combinations of landscape

from “ADSR”
2024

#poetry

Just got a text from my brain saying I’ve used up all my emotional energy for the current billing cycle.

logging truck
trailer empty and
swinging out at me like
a claw

time saturates
bleeds from the sky as snow

weather arrives like a broken clock
scattering gears across the road

from “this hour of travel has lasted two”
1997

#poetry

i have long ago forgotten
where i left the road

i was positive
it was here. or over here

maybe i drove it so much
it became worn out
& the crew from the ministry came
& pulled up the whole stretch

brought it back to the factory for repairs

from “drumlin”
2004

#poetry

the darkness
is an answer

for which
there is
no acceptable question

from “Relapsing”
2005

#poetry

the walls
build you into a house
i climb the steps into you
you hold me in history
your story
repeated
until it becomes true

from “trance”
2006

#poetry

What if we’d washed up on an entirely new shore, a hidden, secret island where the trees grow with their leaves in the ground and their roots up in the air, where the fish fly and the birds swim and the rain jumps up from the sea and into the clouds?

From Pilgrims, 2016.

I know this neighbourhood. I intersect it without needing streets. I use street, alley, gate and yard without discrimination. I own all homes. It is my home first before it is yours. I own your burned out nose and your perforated veins. I know your debts.

from “Proof Negative”
2005

#poetry

the noise sinks to the bottom
settles in heavy layers of sediment
 
a voice talking about bombing hospitals
a voice talking about brain implants

the weight and the pressure combine both voices
into a single, uniform mineral
 
from “weight/pressure”
2024
 
#poetry