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The Good Hour
My waking decline trembles In the good hour As it turns toward The secret face of dream. Your touch upon my shoulder In the dark leaves A handprint of clover On the horizon Of your parting. Read more
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What Remains
I have gone From me, this Slinking gallantry in shuddering Bliss of what remains of joy, Unsheathed in the desperate Brightness of your light Beaming like A dripping carcass On ire’s gleaming gambrel. Read more
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Thinking of Nelly Sachs
Here, sub-substance, I am a catatonic Signifier forgotten Like a lone flower pressed beneath the tangled Virtues of weeds Resigned to slumber’s slow death before the Signified in memory Suffers as distant meaning, hobbled By the unknowable absolute, Crumbles under the weight of being. Read more
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21st century imagists
The dissolution of Pound’s visage in the metro– Tears on a skinny unshaven cheek Read more
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Onoda
Onoda when you come down from the mountain the curious will gather to stare at you They will smell the rain in your hair And the forest on your flesh and Note with awe every blister and boil on your skin And how they bloom like a weary Constellation gathering around The center of your… Read more
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La ponctualité du désespoir
La lumière s’élance En traversant les yeux dormants Pour que le feu Puisse s’indigner de nos caresses Ignorantes de la réalité en rêve. Et nous voici Au point de dissimuler les Cailloux sous nos pieds Comme des consonnes silencieuses, L’écume d’une langue terrestre Qui rudoie les lèvres De son écriture de peur. E. L. Read more
Umbriate Press Poetry 