In Praise of My Wife

I liken you to lichen; me – an average piece of rock on any given forest floor. You have grown slowly over my ragged places. Not hiding them – making them bloom A kind of interplanetary beauty. Or perhaps we are, not Coleridge’s, but Attenborough’s albatross. A wild, constant mating pair. Or I dunno, a …

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The Thwopping Drops of Rain

the thwopping drops of rain on saw palmetto the beat of steady drips on gutter metal the knocking water on the billion solids of the earth the wet dirt iron odor thumping past my nostril hair a February rain in Florida fucking lays me out

In Praise of the Eastern Lubber Nymph

In praise of the eastern lubber nymph shedding its exoskeleton I sing. Hanging it from small branches and leaves – telling intruders “turn back, or face a similar fate – the flaying alive and stringing up of your former self.” In praise of our uncivilized, alien world I sing.

These Are the Names of the Dead

These are the names of the dead: Alyssa Alhadeff, Martin Duque Anguiano, Scott Beigel, Nicholas Dworet, Aaron Feis, Jaime Guttenberg, Christopher Hixon, Luke Hoyer, Cara Loughran, Gina Montalto, Joaquin “Guac” Oliver, Alaina Petty, Meadow Pollack, Helena Ramsay, Alex Schachter, Carmen Schentrup, Peter Wang O the fortune of those who mourn; they will be comforted.

We Do Not Speak Anymore

We do not speak anymore. You are far from the old words we used when I was a boy. Perhaps it is because you are too close now to hear – like bacteria or atmosphere. Perhaps your silence is a new language I must learn.

Let Us Love Out From Our Solitude

Let us love out from our solitude. Let us seek neither power nor impotence; not taking from our lovers the dignity we must build in them; not falsely surrendering the things in us that cannot be given. Let us love furiously, but solemnly.