poems

• Mossing the Star

  I’m half okay

  to be almost

  honing a raft

  of seaworthy

  for afterish;

  only for me

  this itty craft.

• Out Is In

  So many stones

  live at the beach

  like thoughts waiting

  forever to

  be collected,

  diverse and sure,

  glowing and cold.

• Liminal Earth

  What are mountains

  before we knew

  the tectonics

  we really don’t?

  I prick the sea

  for lore I might

  rudder into.

• When the Game Is Over I Will Breathe

  Mount Jupiter is lower

  and greener than The Brothers

  or the reaches of Constance,

  relaxing from god.

• Miscellaneous Summer Tide

  
  Telamonic scree

  holding up my scattering

  infamy

  
  to the windlessness,

  as my royalty flickers

  to a porchlight, grey with mosquitos.

• To the Gathering

  To the gathering

  of wizards

  I bring

  my

  attention,

  and a small

  vocabulary of warm

  oaths to keep primarily

  to

  myself.

  When the pizza

  finally

  arrived,

  we felt like

  passengers

  walking gingerly

  off the head of a long

  anaconda line into

  the Chapel

  itself,

  altogether

  and solitary.

  The most powerful

  elements are

  conspiring

  to

  satisfy.

• How Else, My Soul?

  A safe needle

  container lies

  open on the

  park bench. Empty

  of its content,

  her last surmise

  glows to a lull.

• Fishing in a Rill

  Am I afraid

  of anything

  anymore, now

  that the angles

  are all chartreuse,

  and a starling

  lives in my shade?

• Dilating the Porous

  What a union;

  if we knew how

  to real in calm

  whenever we

  cast off coolness,

  fifty years wouldn’t

  fuddy our spring.

• Averting Gestalt

  The assertive

  brontosaurus

  kept getting stern

  looks from store clerks

  whenever he

  met the forest

  in their furtive.