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Poems

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  • Early Elegy: Telephone Booth | Early Elegy: Cursive

    Its remains: a plexiglass crypt robbed

  • Mantra Post- Storm Desmond

    After thirty-six hours indoors while Desmond

  • Drinking, Failure and Erotics

    Easing from fixed to felt, mellow waves of breeze, the lean

  • Phone Call: Lesson in Style and The Story of Civilization

    “Everything feels all swollen and puffy, like my brain

  • Birds There is No Moon

    Birds there is no moon

  • Circus

    How the squirrel, skittish, leaps, lobbing its orange

  • The Morgue is Closed & Pélican Dans Sa Píeté

    Any décor depresses when it shows

  • George Orwell Sucks

    How can a word evocative of so much pleasure,. both adult and infantile, find itself used – by almost everybody – in

  • Letters from Earth & Sky

    The petals

  • The Movie My Murderer Makes

    My murderer sits in row F, seat 3, just behind my wife and me, in row E, seats 3 and 4.

  • Blond for All the Boys

    Frank Ocean didn’t mean anything to me till Dave said check

  • Storm Song, Monarch, Sultry Night and Galveston, 1900

    Last night heat