· the cultural society ·

Spoiled light Broke milk Grew in place A Hebrew Chattanooga A word’s want What I want But More remains nothing I was Washed of memory On the bed of wandflower Galax Taking the trouble On the black plain Of oblivion Days and Days without decomposition Before me the cup of Lethe For you, Far-worker My […]

To be taught the piano is to fall in love and the cause of love on the street does not remedy            the house, nor what it            stood for.

I am writing from the Bubbly Creek   I have a crush on you, my   Lord, Who pushes up wild carrots from this bed. I pop them to hear the unplugged earth, the music of gasses that mutters in your glass nipple.

1. Drainage rivulet’s brown and blue chop translucent — the vows of coots floating as tears Friday Creek rid of its place – ment 2. The sun drying reeds packed in the ear this light rinsed thin: It has been this day already all over the world under waxwings musing How do they do that […]

Pain, join in my song Flossing loopholes Neath the spiny tree For time has difficulty Rolling uphill: Nothing consecutive On cloud-imitated mountain Cluster and Clearing White flashes On the backs of birds The sound of cinnamon What you get On pharmakos farm No cooling herb In bloodless flowers At the bottom of summer Paper hearts

In the knell
 we looked for words.
 The knock of a fork —
 nothing. 

 Time tossed intimacy around the kitchen

 and readied on the range a rabbit’s red meat. 



How could music presume
 to mimic the sea?

 The cuff itself wrapped and pounding. 



If we tried to climb — 
if we searched for a […]

Farmers move      market-hooved—      grab grain from the trough. Invention flattens a faded name      how wire pins a hand-hold,      a push on the wind. The whipped pearl a mother peddles in grass      taunting straw grown taut,   our cattle commodity our prattling in milk rain. We make stay. Animals themselves are thinly made, caged in      a cagey reign— […]

Flashed in and feeding                                 thundersnow appends the street. Dependent on diction— the poem as procedure, as being punched in the stomach one too many times. One is too many times in terms of stomach punches.                                                                    In terms of thundersnow, the street is now covered. I watch small children refuse to walk in it. They cross […]