we are december

while we were away,

winter happened.


i came home to fresh

frost on the grass.


we share this set of days,

this slow creep toward


the center of the snow

globe maze. at any moment,


a child’s hand can scoop

up the glass and shake us into


oblivion. her delight is

our delay. in the falling


flurries, i find you: wrapped

in your mother’s red scarf—


holding the hand of time.

we are the child, the snow,


the mother, the scarf;

we are december.





o ye of little faith,

o ye of tiny bank account,

o ye of large heart,

o ye of many worries,


o ye of few true friends,

o ye of precious child,

o ye of perpetual exhaustion,

o ye of strong passions:


if you have but the faith of a mustard seed—

yet even a half, a quarter, an eighth—


you shall be seen and heard; you shall be

provided for; you shall inherit the mountain.

jupiter blues

i’m taking the back roads again, caught
in the dark folds of the map; on foot,

turning down that alley i know
is bad news—walking straight in-

to the waiting chase i always
barely escape—like careful

gravity pulling me down in-
to the deepest cavities:

black eyes and hands
like a cave-cage. i break out

and run toward your voice,
the most intimate gift

you can give from way
over there. i would take

the 310 train, but i have no
idea where that is and i’m

nowhere near miami.
you used to love watching

mom get ready, dabbing things
onto her face and neck in

the oblong mirror: the dis-
tortion familiar and needed.

you died in your sleep in
the early morning rain.

at some point before-hand,
you left that voicemail:

you should see the write-
up about her;

she’s making the big
bucks now.

your belief in me
was my life blood.

it still comes through in
dreams: echo shadows of

things that once were; a temporal
cure for things i may never know.

dark thorn

dark thorn


like every
thing living.

there are exceptions:


sixth-seventh-sensing —
in which you never come down.

transcending the


the eye of the needle

down the out-line;

under a blood moon,
muddy waters


the keys to the kingdom
are mine.

help my un-belief.