finding focus in distraction — i drown in the grasses no shape to the sun lines yank in the lake geese gabble on the run bikes with front-baskets ding-ding through the weeds ants meddle on throws ‘tween the bread & the cheese breeze pirouettes the leaf birds rerecord standards spy-eye be a tree when the pivot meanders…

Mourning the past-self after trauma — ‘Mosphere from whence she once was lume — Origins now Unshown. Rut. Rations of dismembered strength — Nursled while In groan. Gut. Never left, her loveliness; it’s Gypped & gouged in Slumps. BUT. That soon-day, she’ll say “thank you”; And “goodbye” to pain’s Response. Shut. Thank you for reading my…

Exposure: Peeling Back The Exteriors From The Interiors — The pulp knows the rind by heart — The longer, the taking-apart. The tubes in the sky, The wise in the eye… Disposed in self-animus cart. Thank you for reading my poetry. If you would like to read more of my work, please click here. If you would like an…

wading through facets — we tried forever — forever was too……… tatted with fetters; two flustered whos wading through facets. what tricky fate! were typical folk — water to face— wilder than flowers — faster than whippets — wasps to forehead — fatter than willets — . worlds that fit, fumble when tested. trusts, we forged; then…

functioning in a simmering pot of mixed anxieties — contagious lil’ clevers— — these nerves unnerving in my leisures. my tongue in basic natter severs… (but never stutters in my thoughts nor in my dreams where i’ve fought.) i set up wings for myself up on this life i call “the shelf”, but freight bestrews me right to left; though, vict’ry keeps…

when Night — The Therapist of Restfulness — is even too occupied to be of solace — . …………… . …………… . …………… . the portraiture of a heavy-peppered, lightly-salted fall of night was that of ebb; but… i felt it coil, the night; it felt so trite — too trite to treat my plagues. it had its own infamy & sweb. . …………… . …………… . …………… . & as long as man is & is, there’s a carry of the night…that differs from the days, which in its rabble, it gulps. & i saw it open, the night; it stood ajar — it’s beauty…

A Time For Quietude & Solitude — Mountain-quietness & me: just two beings being beings. Albums…albumens…softly cook: the unobtrusive little things. Nothing has nothing to do but nothing: & nothing — it needs no time for preen. Discourse assumes cerebral hums: into the throat’s berceuse they lean. If’n — though — in some strained surrounds…the chin must…

Habitual Line Stepping: Crossing the Lines of Her Bodily Integrity — Warpers & extorters …….exploit how it props up & …………..pops out what’s above & below the wide of it. Appellants & repellants …….horn-lock on which chooser gets to choose …………..what exists or not exists inside the pride of it. Issues & tissues …….mutate & mutilate & clot up …………..& …

reflection, transition, negligence — i. reflection God fashioned tree… tree shepherds air inspires a fife and shelters life it’s counted, tree by Grandest Hands its inner work not built to shirk we bind with tree we mark it ours we sense its cross its stoic thoughts we rot with tree we slight its bark tree harvests…