zinc words & images

  • Physical impassibility

    What bones are these? Typing, hanging between gravity’s decisions. Metaphors hardly capture the way my capillaries dance, imprecisely reasoning whether one can see both sides of a coin. Philosophically, a coin only has one side, the side that is visible. My body and its cells, want the solution to be existence on all plains, though,…

  • Poem Up at High Shelf Press

    My poem, A Night’s Movement, is up at High Shelf Press. Find me alongside some really amazing artists and writers here.

  • Reunion

    Regress. Redress. These last lights guide us home Without resolve. And with blue Waving to us from the neon Night we regard each other as Strangers.   Fictive. Addictive. We move time away like layers Of dust. Thick with apprehension, Lacking revelation, I Wipe my mind’s eye of our last Question.   Fortune. Ruin. In…

  • Dreaming of Sound

    Cacophony scrape, My sound and The sound of forgiveness. I once thought the sound of death, But know that blackness has a stillness Unreplicated. This is movement, Sheet metal across gravel Ready to awaken the God of heat As it strides the exterior wall of someone’s house. Sound deep in your teeth, Scrape The rest…

  • 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…

  • Invention

    People are capable. Marigolds become brittle. What was worn is new. Fire escapes rain down Particles of soil seeping through the drainage Holes of a city garden. It is in the rust That change comes And in the taut drum Sound. Golden polish buffed With an old t-shirt And ignored by children Looking at clouds.…

  • 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?

  • Musings on a Single Topic #2

    What are phantoms made of? stardust memories The mist from lava dropping into the ocean ectoplasm open doors blowing curtains words spoke softly dim lamps with antique shades beaded curtains crackling branches padded steps on a wood floor lost loves good advice, in retrospect dappled forest light letters photographs portraits historic markers a large single…

  • 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…