Tag: salt

in an age when close and distant cloud
I make what you won’t want to eat and wait
for the snow scrape and salt that wakes us too
early or too late little mountains pen
in sugared cars I try to lift this snow

with homemade rhythm into clouds
like berries almost black but how
long do I have to long for long-lasting
mud and birds who stay a bit and fly back

a breath that leaves green leaves to shake
so let’s finish the crackers and
call them cookies we can watch a

movie through the neighbor’s window
just balance on this pile of skulls

July 18, 2025

berries, birds, breath, cars, clouds, green, leaves, mountains, movie, mud, salt, skulls, snow, window
Some mornings it takes only half
a word and the rotten dough starts
its sticky churn—a squirrel darts
blindly into the street—crows laugh

—bubbles that smell like blistered feet
pop pop pop. The dough grows until
it overflows and spills its fill
from patio to doorbell. Beat

this image down and let it rest.
Don’t blame the tattered recipe,
flour, or salt. In an hour I’ll plea
for sweetness like a man possessed.

I see the mess these thought have brought—
Bread that’s just holes. I’m glad we fought.

October 18, 2024

bread, bubbles, crows, doorbell, dough, feet, flour, patio, recipe, salt
I want to tell it as honestly as I can. They were all masks. The indecipherable cartoons. The levitation. Phrases plucked from a radio in an abandoned car. Trying to appear simple to hide a different simplicity. New Ugaritic hymns on vintage clay. It all fed some demon that fed me unfortunate moods. Quasimodo as Beckett playing Don Quixote with a shard of glass in his or just K. Kat singing to the mittens the moment before the impact of love gee aren’t images grand?

Though immobilized by what those thoughts might and whether they could be liked loved subscribed to at midnight this pen becomes a pin when the free preview expires but I have groundhog burrows to inspect and potatoes to prepare, which brings me back to, and by which I hope to prove, once and for almost all, in the fullness of, and we’ll see how it goes. But soon the orange smear of our star glittering just slow enough out of this restless salt and then

August 30, 2024

beckett, car, cartoons, don quixote, groundhog, levitation, masks, potatoes, quasimodo, radio, salt, simplicity, star, thoughts, ugaritic hymns, vintage clay
Having darkened my hand with dark ink in
an age when close and
distant are cloudy unaided having
made so much that no

body wants to eat I wait for the latest
historic storm and the
scrape and salt that wakes us too early
or too late

model mountains pen in
sugared cars I try to

lift the snow with a wave
of homemade rhythm into
sky like berries almost black

but do I fracture some rule with
this spell how many feet do I have

to long for long-lasting mud
and the birds who

visit though we won’t learn
their names this year

either but the tracks lead
to a curve turning

back on itself with a smile
the breath leaves

green leaves shake

so let’s finish off the crackers
and call them
cookies we can watch
a movie through the neighbor’s
window just
balance on this skull

September 2, 2022

birds, body, cars, crackers, hand, ink, mountains, movie, mud, rhythm, rule, salt, scrape, skull, sky, snow, spell, storm, tracks
Sometimes you start
with a blank page other times
there’s no choice

the world before
you were born

prefers a simple table
salt, pepper, a clean glass
still water and when
voices rise

walks out to the balcony
thinks about the cigarettes we
smoked and flicked without though

we would never imagine
doing that today with all the

in the air and settling
down into the roots of your hair

you hardly need the stones
as you walk into the lake

April 3, 2021

balcony, blank page, cigarettes, lake, pepper, salt, stones
after the dive not enough salt in my soup

April 15, 2020

dive, salt, soup
how our bodies work so the ocean has salt

August 9, 2012

bodies, ocean, salt
another dimension of my moan straight lines of salt

July 16, 2012

dimension, moan, salt