zinc words & images

  • Untitled

    Clambering eyes Take to the body And cling rather than linger.      

  • Late Summer Along the Missouri

    I followed a reed Down to the ground, It’s stoic greenness Leading my hand.   Fibers, like razors, Like all grasses slice The dry parchment of My palm and make a   Blessing of my life. Leaves, embalmed in muck Tangle with the fine hairs Put forth by your will,   Reed. I expect frost…

  • Woven

    ‘I’ve run in the winter With cold feet, brittle ice Sending angled signals Away from me as if The ice beneath me must Warn its brethren.   We are shod in last year’s Season, found by our mothers, Discarded by Autumn, But still something of our own. When the tapestry Of suspended water   Subsides…

  • Musings on a Single Topic #3

    What is a gift? “Lover You Should’ve Come Over” and every single person that covers it. This body, as broken as it is. My magnolia tree and fresh bread and good butter. Mark Rothko. The intersection in front of Mother India, and the beautiful fragrance I can smell while stopped at the red light. The…

  • Selfie

    Is this me? Hair laid over one eye, Looking, but not looking. Am I Narcissus or The discoverer of a new World? Blue, Brown, cream, pink. The pigmentary fragments Of an image I recognize As a fateful friend I never knew. Adjustments and lighting Obscure and reveal further, Shifting shade and light to be Fragonard,…

  • Small Sights

    the bricked-up door manages all my visions. before i wake i hear the birds beyond mortar. from the bed with disrupted comfort, they remind me of what needs to be done. perch on. what is missed beyond that tree?

  • In Absentia

    Hips and depression don’t go together. Used too much or too little. Either way the body compulses until materiality dissipates. My fleshy corporea hides a thing, brittle, like newspaper, carbonized, though it works harder than any laboring hand or industrial composition. “I think it wants to kill me” or at least, to cauterize my humanity.…

  • Musings on a Single Topic #1

    What is left behind? Me You We Paper clips and candy wrappers Friends from high school Friends from college A car, in the parking lot of a bar, when you’ve had too much to drink A CD, a favorite one, in 1998, in your ex’s car Doggie bags full of leftovers A credit card A…

  • Grower Hope

    Holding this blueberry in my hand, I do not know where it came from or how it will grow. The ground is too shallow here, stained with saltwater and filled with debris. Skree is really all it is, no place for this tiny thing to root. I must be delicate, otherwise its blue will leave…

  • Making the Night

    Stringed night Moonbeam notes Play along Crowns and crests. Billowing darkness, So rich I could grasp And fold the warm night Toward my body, having It for myself. Lyric leaves Whisper, sowing my mind With drowsy songs That open my Skin to every breeze. Forest floor, papered, Over time gathers The lunar composition That streams…