Week 2/Day 2. Ain’t what it used to be (a poem)

The second poem of the second week of the online retreat. (Slightly revised.) The old neighborhood ain’t what it used to be, I’m afraid. Used to be you might could do whatever you want, wouldn’t have no trouble doin’ it, neither. Like any place, it took gettin’ used to at first, but once you figured [...]

Week 1/Day 4. Rose Red goes quantity surveying (a poem)

This is my fourth poem of the online retreat. It’s an interesting bit of kismet. Despite my childhood crush and her reddened cheeks, I fail to recognize her until she sits down at the other side of the table. She is almost formless— I can’t even tell you what she’s wearing. She carries a book [...]

Week 1/Day 3. born of Old Depression, she sleeps (a poem)

This is my third poem of the online retreat. temporal clarity as a pointed peak poking around morphine fog a picture painted in stochasm a misaligned screen through which ink no rose no glass oceans of atoms murky heavens in mushroom squelch neighboring metals rust silently the amusements of a young girl fold like irons [...]