zinc words & images

  • Lookout Points

    We have tall trees. The sort that seems to have raised themselves From a story,  rather than a seed. From the north they look Like spindly teeth ready to eat The sky. Along their roots, We mapped the spine of our land, Coming to conclude that Moss is a language rather than A cartographer’s mark.…

  • Threaded Through the Air

    On my way home I saw a song or rather I felt a song and saw the man singing it. He was on a street corner bus stop, waiting, mouth open, leaning back for diaphragm’s sake. The sound traveled through my closed window and I turned to look and thought, yes, I feel that way,…

  • April 23 #2

    On repeat I hear your favorite song, so much harmony and the sad energy of contemporary men who have dogs but no purpose. It is elliptical or epic, beginning with the story at the end. Flourishes and backbeats, breaking the audience’s necks as if their heads were brushed by the hand of an unseen uncle.…