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Poems

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  • Survival Rate | 1st Love

    When at customs I don’t declare

  • Babel of Signs

    Skirting the coast desperate for fresh food

  • Consecration of the Wolves I and IV

    For now, I will await

  • Of Silk and Missive & Between Tree and Rocket

    Did our adolescent lips heat once or more under one or many star falls between sands on a northern American

  • Government Center

    Screeching right up to us through downtown Friday traffic.

  • From Toying

    Like Tiny Tears

  • Poem by Zuzanna Ginczanka (1917-1945) translated from Polish by Alex Braslavsky

    There’s now a so-so year for you: 1933—

  • Night Watch

    It’s instant art:  transmuted to the net

  • love sonnet to aliens | Putin statue project

    the known universe is self-referential: it has no choice.

  • IN JANUARY

    Low sky, slow air, and nothing much

  • Vaccination, in the Broadest Sense of the Term, Crickets and Lucky Strike Lanes

    Just as the pharmacist drove the vaccine into my arm

  • Diptych

    I’m hammering nails into the stretchers,