zinc words & images

  • 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 #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…

  • Recording Device

    I can feel the beat. You walking through the door. Me listening at the door. The slightly humid room you would like to escape from. The air conditioning kicks on with a sputter as you turn it down one degree at a time like a safecracker. The shirts folded where you left them: in the…

  • The Little Things

    We have moments of vanity I’ll repeat in perpetuity with serious refractions I arrange suitably. On beaches and crow’s wings we sing: out of time out of range out of my head. This song i sing blows by as memory, alone on an hourglass watching leafed pages expose themselves to a towline hurricane in successive…