I didn’t mind
being alone it’s what
I dreamt last night
that bothered me how
we had found a way
to reach the past
and it was a wooden ship
I mean gigantic with
escalators and we entered
the room and they saw us
and the ship lurched forward
through the chamber
and we were running
could feel the whole
of our bodies strike down
in each step knowing
we’d get away because
that thing was an iceberg
and we were hollow-
boned birds about
to take flight





There’s a spot on my glasses     it’s

my father   mind-boggling    both of us

            the fish got away every   
time or when

the memories are none too good      

myself for that      non-remembering     or

is it the way to swim around   
                                                 glassy blur

comforting    or in this case    
                                                only way      space

heterogeneous     collapsing of things
rows of

                     too few dominoes      stop-stopping    

I’m    when you said         pray for the children

                 when the campfire collected  us    
                          the complete set         





We got closer to what was the moon. 

Sulfured apricot on the horizon line. 

Our train behind two freight trains and late again. 

All the silos in the night and the lakes around them.

Their silver doubles in the water. 

What I wanted was the conductor.

His framing beard.  A man in uniform porn. 

For the bathroom door to rattle with our bodies fucking. 

None of the passengers knowing.

All of their shoes asleep and cream-colored. 

All of the bridges in the dark connecting what?
Glistening strings of Christmas lights in the water.

Mock fish or the flashing comets of the unfinished sun.





Stung raw & open, stung closed. 
An understanding that alignment is short-lived,
happens maybe less now. 

Is a dandelion trying to poke through a parking lot.

Interruption, Fear lets us take you into our arms for quick fucks.
My heart could be a liquid everything, 
Rivers and rivers through unconventional intelligence. 

When I say core I mean heart
The core of this poem is acetone-based,
best left for a man with gloves. 
This man isn't you. 
                                 When I say man I mean core.
When I say man I mean that thing undone in the veins of your body.