less than nothing (20210415)

the noise buzzing
the eternal hum
that is both in
and not in
my ears

has no
resemblance to music
no beat and no accentuated
pitch

if i concentrate
closing my eyes
a sine wave resolves itself
against my eyelids
but this is the invisible illusion
of sound

what is heard is not even
the pressure of disturbed air

open handed (20210401)

separate neatly skin from muscle
more finesse required than i offer
with a single hand
the second an object of dissection
inspection perhaps retaliation

are these bones robot parts
unfinished machines sensitive to
heat pain inflammation
infection inflection

the dictionary squeezed
until only ashes drift down
ashes like snow
ashes like dehydrated tears
ashes like ashes

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”