the sight collector

naturally occurs outside,
a box & a coin, the
phrase opposite, a
position or reason,
stand lateral the
instance, retrace the
movement, of the
same constants

*

eyes sink into sockets,
a value opens &
closes, because the
anode eroded

*

opposite the occasion, a
comma sliced in two

*

listening to layers, the
arriving at the surface

*

there are compliclarities
about the whole thing,
it’s difficult to see,
try a logic block, to
recapture reason

*

i hear sounds, metabolic
interpretations, joins &
tendons relationships

*

after a day, when rain
leaves marks on the windows
edge, prints of shape &
correspondence, maybe the
moon, the dogs licks her
bed, actions into manifestations

*

so suppose, i spelled
that wrong, comma
after the pen, send
a message down the
meridian, pass along
side, reach with extended
dorsal, not only does
this

*

lifted eye, of dropped
circumference, noted
between a 90° angle,
lesser of the two chairs,
exhale in, exhale out,
stapled to breath

*

of drifting regularities,
mapping the path, towards
remarkable inferences

*

opposed to the lateral, a
proposal on the medial,
one point to the
metacarpal

*

ventral, the co-lateral
development along the
triaxis of post-medial
view

*

the pilot drove over
to the left hand store,
reassured by the rising
costs, slept & walked
away

*

frozen in a trance of
inner perfection, looking
beyond the lost, listening
to the outer become inner,
a repeated silence

hello, how can i help you?

saturday arrives and lands on my
plate, two spoons, no fork, now
it’s monday & the cafeteria, a mess
of corporate bullshit/the others all
set aside, another way, flesh
toughened by urban construction,
a room without a clock, does it bother
you to be so still, watch as others eat,
food projected towards the face, a master
sample, texts that comply, respond,
listless & rotten, left the house an hour
early, unknown, listen to the tick
of clutter, walk away & the phone rings

rain (leading into winter

it should be snowing, but water melts
& leaves tiny rivers along the edge,
small toes white from cold & breath
raw from last night dance in puddles,
two leave wait their turn while crows
holler at one another, but it’s hard to
understand, thoughts of winter begin,
question, does it begin at an onset,
no sense in a mark, something of a
missed punctuation, but as it falls,
snow seems so far away, a thought,
short, but point, waiting, maybe in time,
a slow build up, half-frozen as morning
awakes over dark streets

fall (the scent of summer

there is dust on the typewriter,
scattered letters & no coherent
words, the dog lays a little to the
left & outside the sun speaks to
fallen leaves, to say as much
as a decent goodbye, frost &
bugs that live in the bark of
a half fallen tree cling to the last
scent of summer, a spider crawls
down the street on two legs & as
the rain begins to fall, windows
leave marks on the floor & a carton
of milk stands two weeks old

reading into stories

outside the inscription, scattered pieces,
a lost mark, a bruise on the right hand side,
some disagree, others don’t,
though when they walk into a room,
lamp shades talk about dust
& a scratch on the floor remembers the feel of skin,
but as a leaf runs across the street, yellow
appears & we know this,
a choice between nights that folds sheets
of rain into paper & a gust of wind that blows
cool air under our tongues &
the feel of each strand of hair