Circus

1. I cut my thumb open on a knife and it believed it was sleeping – the skin puckered like the mouth of a fish. The blood was like a horse narrowing herself through a fence, through a canal into another city. 2. Tomorrow, she said, tomorrow – pointing at a pair of air balloons…

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Sistine Chapel

  One day you took the time and you inverted your children on a stained-glass window. The unusual shapes hung upside-down. Their hair turned white, their eyes transparent— and wings developed along their backs like scales, stars sprinkled around the moon.

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Inversion

  There will come a day when no one— literally no one— will carry a Polaroid camera. You walk through a corn field realize the machines have learned to walk. The water turns to ice, turns to mold hung within a tree— your hair long trimmed with wind, fossilized on a stone.

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“I have a thing for poetry”

  and poets— You turned at the waist behind the podium and the way your mouth moved suggested kissing as your eyes focused on my shadow. I understood. I know my eyes would have reminded you of winter and the way the leaves curl curl into combs and lanterns that we might have cast out…

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Art Museum

  1. There are still fields where the crops split open into other fields. The crows become a canyon that opens its mouth revealing a dust storm.   2. You walk into a museum and focus on a set of inverted paintings— a cropping of heads mounted on pivoting sticks that sing.

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I am not this tree.

Where did these bricks come from – perhaps they were trees and olive branch burned in a santuary window. As though to throw off the jack-in-the-box image, the mouth of an auditorium the Keynote is the inversion of a ghost – what do they aspire to? A tree, a lime – burning with seeds –…

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The “colossal wreck”

How large must the statue be when buildings are buried like small ships once floating in a sea of sand, flesh-turned -clay figurines walking under the dome that is brushed with sand and wind and grass that touches two amputated legs. * Inspired by “Ozymandias” by Percy Bysshe Shelley

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Corn Field

1. A house was parked floating on a vineyard where scarecrows frowned upon a funeral. The mother said, “And this is where you were made –” pointing to the area between her legs. 2. That winter, corn stalks and cactus leaves coexisted. The child pictured a machine fueled by wax and steel, by jars of…

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The Day I Left Candles At His Grave Sight

I think of him every year on my birthday – He died of a stomach ache – I remember how I wrote poems and plastered them on the walls as though they might accumulate into a thirteen-year-old boy. I imagine how his eyes would be replaced with small worlds, his hands holding desert sand and…

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Stones Are More Easily Thrown Backwards

Corpses are simpler to identify in the spring. As horses as glass, with broken knees fractures of teeth what little ivy they have eaten that remains in their digestion in the grass in the weeds of the mirrors of horses of confetti of coffins.

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