can barely keep up with all the poems I have in progress right now, but here are two that can be shipped out. the former here is a new one off the cuff and the latter i wrote probably in summer 2017 (circa? my hair was definitely short) but edited last week. it seems there’s about a 1/2 chance that any poem i write without premeditation will culminate with the moon. the cover of harpers says american hegemony is over. inshallah. listening to sloth again and again. excited to escape fairfield county soon. lots going on, lots of poems coming, pumped to make books! peace.
making hay heaping it on then forking it all away; haystacks drift over fields. blurry with heat, evenings slumped in the loft. hey, why don’t you and i? tumble out the window, scamper back into the pasture, stake out in a tall one, flicking matches; suck strawberry moon. Milk Dishes ring against the slate, she licks her fingers clean. Peering over plastic sands, straw plunged into the deep. Wary, she checks her Western flank, she steals two glances East; Stuffs her lungs with pixie breath and blows into the sea: Wild hair and sleepy eyes sucking up impermanence in white frothy bubbles. Can’t argue with cadence, can’t run from the sound; Full sails far from shore and the sky kneeling down.