zinc words & images

  • Dinner

    I say a prayer Over This plate of rice And question whether I am worthy Of One Single Grain. I know this is not What prayer is for. There is no comfort In silence. And the wintering Of my bones Is the only answer To my questions. Short and hard Are my days, The design…

  • 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…

  • Midnight Snack

    Kitten calls are the way to find out nature is in your living room. It wakes me at 2am every night. Bladder and cat food, like clockwork. Between popping the top off of the purina bin and glancing at my own nighttime reflection in the dining room mirror, I begin to wonder if I am…

  • Listening

    I let the pigeon go. It wept in my hand and ringed its neck, left and right. Against a brick wall, I was shattered from listening to the coo that never left.

  • Long Walk

    Regulate my temerity, but lust for the bastions, where roses and a deep sigh wait. Beekeeping myself against waxed rows and granular helpings of pine-scented lips. Retire this feeling beneath the decking boards and the sunlight relish, that lift my shoulders beyond where I knew they could be. Shanks and beatitude for the trees and…

  • Yes

    Catastrophe abounds when you reach behind me to touch my hair and whisper, “Shush, it’s the night and I am here to save you from yourself.” I can only see beyond the castles and trees moving with respirative awareness and think, “You are the end of me.” Your wordless presents prevent my absolution from the…

  • Anguish

    I would sit at your hand, Zeus, and become hammered gold hugging your wrist. You should be mine. I watch you watch all the girls with an eon’s worth of power right below me. Deep sighs and thirsty bellows reach me through the vibrations of a beauty half made in your image.

  • Forgotten Voice

    This voice is quiet now. I have not put pen to paper. Nor have I heard you, beautiful muse. Come to me! Grant me your omniscience and the confidence of strident satyrs, who are not afraid of foolishness- they bear it in all around them. I seek you outside my car window, near my tools,…

  • Traveler

    The Starry Sky and no-man rest beneath an awning sign. The Milky Way high above and waiting for the tide. Uncover if you will all the structures staired and risen. Leave the air a gaseous object ablaze for those who listen. Crickets stir and play me off toward the turn-down twilight. It’s what I know…

  • Means

    are you reminded that you will die soon is it too much to bear that someone young doesn’t need living irrelevance never cracking a spine and watching deep voiced narrators does not qualify opinion or respect those gathered roses died long ago, when muscles could flex and confidence appeared across any vision to you now…