Poetry

I watched a man pretending to be Christ stagger up the aisle with a two by four on his shoulder. Two soldiers with Roman plumes flanked him, ready to slap his back with

there, off the edge, between the black swell of the flattened peaks and dips, radio tower antenna pushing up as wild grass, now looking back toward the city. my wife is asleep now

We agreed to meet in the forest to talk. The sun is setting. Wild irises on fire on an April evening. Moths flutter on my bare arms, dusting me off. Romance slinks into

i got a bone to pick with whoever picked out your bones. show you some teeth when you turn up in those bad shoes show me that skin so i can get a

I never thought it was funny when you told people to fuck off, your fingers high in the air, legs barely long enough to reach the ground. I knew you when you were