if i knew you were the loving kind

nacre, naked, this. no one sees when you strike, when you return to earth.


where in the sentence “salting, smoking, and curing” is there forgiveness?

The Blue Room

the librarian — straddling stardust, solitude; hiding*, conniving

Under the Seaport Boulevard Bridge

the wind’s tease — smell it? like a ghost gripping an oar, sun on its red brow

sylvan shadows

new fears wet, exposed don’t be afraid of the dark demons in daydreams (studios without walls)