POEMS I DIDN'T WRITE 2025

FOR ASTRAEA

THE BRIGHT OTHER WORLD

GOLDEN SWEETIE

TAXES VS BELLS

SKIN (WHAT’S REALLY GOING ON) 

FIRST THING

FACE VALUE

HOW TO BE A POLE/NOT A BANNISTER

YEAR OF THE SNAIL

HIGHWAY 212

VANIR

ANOTHER POEM ABOUT WHAT I DON'T WANT/ANOTHER POEM ABOUT WHAT I DO

THROW AWAY

GOODNIGHT GARTH

The Road Bless Thee

Black tourmaline will you guard this house

from what will surely become my mania,

a paperweight upon the matching note of my synth 

patched in sympathy with the neighbour's HVAC

whose dull Sunn O))) scatters me throughout

the kitchen so eager to suck down the dregs 

of space where the vibes can't get me,

will you keep these cards of devotion on the shelf

from fluttering down like the snake's confetti 

because the intentionality of the clutter on 

the shelf is too much, these cards I've read

and will read and the books I'll never read

but curated as an idea of who I tried to be.

Winter Landscapes

The coffee smell of scrubbing pots

The carbonated pop of falling snow

The desiccated pepper like a mummified mouse

The chlorine scent after the broccoli’s been mown

The live coals of New York as seen from the air

The fresh semen smell off the stone-ground tortillas

The motel taste in your mouth the morning after

Is that a dead blackbird or a charred piece of wood?

The hunting shark shadow of a helicopter above

The craving for cake which sounds like your name

The weight of all that light on the tops of the trees

The enormous horned head of the moon on the ridge 

The way you hate the way you look in the photos I take

and how I feel the same (photos of me, taken by you)

and how it makes one wonder 

what numbers we become inside any given pair

and who gets to be the aftertaste

while the other seeps out with the angel’s share