olfactory event (20191108)

the late night fog
carries the smell of candy

the dog doesn’t notice
or is uninterested
or i imagine it

each of these potential realities
is equally valid

in other universes my little hunter
has a cold
has scented a coyote
i am having an intracranial incident

i cannot avoid what
the night fog offers me

no bitter oil slick of chocolate
no icy bite of mint
no slow burn of cinnamon

just the sick-sweet punch
of fluorescent waxes filled with
sugar syrup and unspecified fruit flavors
a preschool classroom
after snack time
each mouth red-ringed
exhaling diabetic clouds
during nap time

***

the morning fog replaces this
with the odors of wet
pine
juniper
cypress
eucalyptus
and standing beneath one
broad-leafed tree
the sound of rain
local to this spot
instantiated in this moment
dew condenses
dripping leaf to leaf

the dream of the moon (20190722)

i dreamt i was the moon, but the dream seemed real upon waking, so much so that i checked the mirror for craters and dark sides. i found nothing of interest–no man living there, no celestial maiden, no mochi pounding rabbits. the memory of that cold embrace of the dark sky, being held by nothing, floating and shining with an impossible weightlessness of being both far away and as near as a reflection in glass haunted me throughout the day and well into a moonless night.


for dVerse Poet’s Pub
Prosery #2 — “I dreamt I was the moon”

First Printing

IMG_5996

I like to do things besides write, and I know I’ve posted at least one picture of my sculptures before. I have more, and really intend to add them. But that’s for later.

The above untitled piece is the beginning of my foray into printmaking. I created the original image by combining found sources in Photoshop and then transferring the etching to a plexiglass plate. The first two editions were in black ink, this and a partner piece in red. The entire effort is very process oriented and really requires you to be present. It’s very different from any other endeavor I’ve tried before. And a lot of fun.

Poem 20150610

maybe it’s the way i’m sitting
at work

i think

trying to rationalize away
the throbbing pain
in the back of my neck
the front of my head

it’s certainly not stress
since there’s little be stressed out
about
at work or home
and right now
(knock on wood–hear me, o
forest spirit, o dryad, dweller
bark and wood pulp)

or it could be
my obsessive checking of
the phone

or my sinuses
–my sini?–
but how does that account
for the neck

and what i want
is a cool dark room
and quiet
and maybe some music
but low enough
to think it’s the neighbors
playing something i like