As If Death Were Nowhere

Two rabbits like bad children hide in a hollow log.

All bodies transform // to water and rubble / when confronted with water and rubble.

If you’ve been devastated by the body, yours or another, then I am with you. I grieve

How quickly the language we dreamt in becomes the language we no longer use

Abandon the old altars. Leave heaven in ruins

His drinking is a kind of peace / the way a pacemaker is a kind of heart

In other words we sift through the sad lives / of the tasteless, their grotesque // paintings of bald eagles and motorcycles

 This Body Which is Water We Call HomeWaccamaw

Often I mistake / the ocean for our home. // Systole, diastole, synonymous / with ebb and flow

From her / this world, / this mangled sentence

Leaves discolor / because of what // trees are asked / to hold overnight

Who watches burlesque for the dancer’s technique // and not the revelation of body

That’s what you do / when the unexpected happens. // You embrace it; you move on

  • Sequel” Superstition Review

this sequel // ends the way all things end — it ends

We coil around two conversations: / one a rattlesnake, another a licorice wheel

foam // overwhelmed by the water / of its creation