Tallow

Dogs
of bone
silenced
the right
hand.

The night
had wanted
to fathom.

Midblessed

Everyone
is a friend.

Every dark
whip.

Every
mysteryface.

Every
hanger.

Three
ruined jackals

in the iron.

The sad
case

of permarust.

5.1.2

I want to feel you
out with my macrosmatic animal.

You leave me

horribly agastopiafied

        in the terraflats 

                  beneath the outcrops.

Tulips

I like the way
you creep

like a bird.

I like the way
you creep.

Your deciduous
profile.

The way
you impress me.

I mean
the way press me

out of body.

White cathedral breeze.

Tsunami

Why, when my hands
wash across your oceans,
you bolt into the forest?

This One Weird Trick

where all the trees
are dead
against the stars

and the moon
hangs like a child--

imp-white, pretension.

I remember
when all the clouds
looked like animals.

Now all of the animals
just look like clouds.

What are Friends For?

There is something
nice about knowing that,

although we
are not friends anymore,

we are both
sitting in our

reclusive studies
thinking about

the same human problems,
wondering if things

will all come
together as we planned.