1.29.15

1.26.15

Chambered

And now you break me open like
a pomegranate thrown against a wall.
My heart in imitation of that fruit
has locked itself in unnumbered cells
arranged like with Sebus’ strange
symmetry. 

Our shadows tessellate on grasses
illegible as water-laden pulp. The grounds
keeper swore he saw something move—
there! By them grave sentry theatres. 

We hung round a little while past the
presentation, broadening our cultivation,
blazoning a complex coat of arms behind
our heads, talking excitedly, on Artemis,
our voices grew in tiers like shrubs baring
all of their fatal, chambered fruit in a
single season.

Artemis, born of a quail, you told me,
broke a pomegranate to wear for a
serrated crown. I knew from my own
readings she once tamed a bear, and
went round in a chariot pulled by golden
horned deer. 

And I thot but did not say to you that I am
like her, for men who saw her naked body
befell tragedy. I am uninterested however
in archery. I am shot at, not the one to shoot.
Also, I have been flanked, times, on
either side by common blue butterflies.

poem 1.23.15

self portrait 1.26.15

1.26.15

Couple

collage from google images searchin

1.25.15

1.20.15

1.8.15

Pleasureville Sunsets

1.6.15

Market Price

an old money crushed-granite mountain
sports an ascot of mint green and magenta
paisley, still and stately, if eager before
his crusty ridge of baked spiny lobster.

1.15.15

shes the journal i will never keep.
ours is no regularity. i grow sour earth.
moss out at the seams. she is like a
sweet gum devours it. even her breath
is spokes.
women are explicitly emotional, she said
it with sloth hand leaves.
i admire the spiny cylindrical pods
of them gum trees, monkey balls, we called 'em,
i almost dropped the keys to my bone trunk
climbing her fleshy one to reach the seeds,
                                                  /    them

     \     self portraits.